—After Mary Ruefle

All my life I felt a heavy hand 

pushing some thoughts out

through the plushy curtains 

of this or that opera house

and holding other thoughts back

with a shepherd’s crook and a firm 

hand, or a firm look that says

Quiet. Still, I was grateful 

that I had decided some thoughts 

are worth the water and snackpacks

it takes to keep them alive.

When I watched television

I saw other people’s decisions

in motion: This one decides to keep

her baby; that one decides he will never again

leave his home. Even when I was not being

a poet, I was deciding how early to wake—

how early to begin the business of approving

and disapproving of the shapes 

I’d let my person take.