Notes On A Poem (Poetry)

I do not feel I should explain a thing.
This poem stands
finished as a building
roof to floor
the paint has dried upon my hands
thin layers gloss each fretted-over line.

I won’t say more.
Plans were minimal — designed
to fit a thought
more words would only undermine
unbalance composition
and distort.

I’ve taken down the scaffolding
the walls are true
unneeding of additional support.
The concept’s clear — and what is meant
remains for most like minds
entirely evident.