AN ODE TO LEAVING THINGS ALONE:
SUZANNE SUNSHOWER
There is something to be said
for leaving things alone.
When I don’t,
paintings get overly made up
like old ladies with too much rouge
on sunken cheeks;
and poems begin to stick
to fingers greedy
to write more
when less will do.
There is something
to be said for leaving
well enough alone,
giving time for fresh thought,
allowing new bold strokes
of wit or whimsy
to come later;
creative ideas savored
a proper amount of time
not unlike
sweet candies,
sickening
if gobbled
all at once.