On Writing Confusing Poems

I write confusing poems, I am told.
When the doorbell rings

I race down the stairs
in my sexy high heel boots –

expecting to see you there.
A mirage of mind, I think.

What the hell –
I will go back to my desk alone –

hold the nib in my hand,
and write another confusing poem.




*Maureen Weldon lives in Shotton, North Wales.  Her poetry has appeared in Poetry Scotland, Snakeskin, Open Mouse, Crannog, Sons of Camus, and many other journals and small press magazines.