By MLee Dickens'son
Although I’m slow, I’m thankful I can read.
Still, I would like to find a way to show
how much my dull, dyslexic eyes impede.
I’m thankful I can read, although I’m slow.
When I take little bites, I do quite well…
without too much distraction. Something lights
my understanding, and it starts to gel;
I do quite well… when I take little bites.
Somehow, a word-filled page confuses me;
I tighten up or panic; though I vow
to plug away, ere long my mind can flee.
A word-filled page confuses me somehow.
That’s why the poems I write and read are short.
I’m grateful I’m not stupid, though I’m shy
of breadth… and depth… of facts I might import.
The poems I write and read are short… That’s why.