Poem of the Week CXI

I read this today in my -autographed!- copy of John Stone's poetry compilation The Smell of Matches. It reminded me of my sweet teammate Elizabeth, a star crossword-puzzler.

The Crossword Puzzle Maker

John Stone

When the letters refuse

to fit into place,

she thumbs her dictionary

for words she's never used;

ancient Egyptian gods

and planets, Emperors

and gnus.

Over my morning coffee

I am unaware of her,

the blocks and blur

of her hop-scotch mind.

Nor can she know,

who holds back answers

for tomorrow's paper,

what my world is about,

the corners

I have worked myself into,

with no words to get me out.