Collins Response

Dear Collins,

You ask to hold a poem to the light
Like a color slide
When not all can see color.
You ask to press an ear against its hive
When not all can hear the buzzing.
Meaning grows and lives
But meaning does not choose its partner
Instead of watching the mouse probe his way out
Why not probe your way out yourself?
A tortured confession is an insincere one, truly
But a questioned one is not,
A harvested, mined meaning
contrived
Is meaning nonetheless.