i see articles
about mothers
whose poems were found
after they died.
in each and every one of these,
their poetry is reportedly amazing
i am always baffled by this
because, objectively,
once a poet has reached a certain level
only their work can go further.
to say it succinctly:
i have seen an amazing poem but not an amazing poet

so is my perspective thrown off?
or is it that those poems have been touched by the special, peculiar glitter
that death brings?