The Poet Community

Critiques | A Poem by JD DeHart

A thousand small spiders
creeping across the page.
Laden with errors, one voice
says, while another uses the word
Wit and still another says
Nowhere near ready. Send more,
Send less, Quit sending.
A thousand shards of glass,
a thousand bitter barbs and a few
roses,
and that’s the work ahead.



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