I am an interloper who eavesdrops
on her own dreams. Could be called
repeating myself, could be
that I plagiarize my own
muses. Could be time
to take this industry beyond
these interior walls. Who owns
the rest will follow.
plagiarize
Into the Lens
A waking smirk paints her face
young. Her daydreams
have become pages
from old journals ripped
out, restacked, sewn
back together
in an order she believes
would have sustained
such animation. Plagiarizing is
alright as long as she
doesn’t plagiarize
herself. But it’s too much
work to steal from others. That look
is for no one—now it belongs
to these worn-down back streets.
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 