Some like poetry by Wisława Szymborska
that means not all.
Not even the majority of all but the minority.
Not counting the schools, where one must,
and the poets themselves,
there will be perhaps two in a thousand.
but one also likes chicken noodle soup,
one likes compliments and the color blue,
one likes an old scarf,
one likes to prove one’s point,
one likes to pet a dog.
but what sort of thing is poetry?
More than one shaky answer
has been given to this question.
But I do not know and do not know and clutch on to it,
as to a saving bannister.