Two Poems (September 20, 2011. Issue 31.)
She Wanted A Happy Poem
Seriously though,
I don't know how to write
A Happy Poem.
What are you supposed
to write about?
Babies and Flowers and FallingInLove.
I hate Babies,
always have. Their hands
are creepily soft and most
of them are
assholes and they
know more than you think they do.
I also hate Flowers.
My mom loves them;
her mother,
not so much. We joke
and say it skips a generation.
So, good—I wont have
to worry about any nonexistent
future babies
taking over my house
with perfumed soaked
begonias and butterfly bushes
full of petals and pollen.
I also—no, I don't
hate FallingInLove; it's just
when I know what to write about
concerning that issue, then fine,
I'll write.
Until then I'll not
crudely press pen to paper
forcing words like 'forever'
and 'soulmate' and
'thatlookinhiseyes'.
It's just rude and I was raised
to be polite
and respect my elders
and write Happy Poems.
I guess some things just don't stick.
The Issue In Loving
there is issue in loving
the wrong way.
there are rules to be followed
for a reason.
you left me that summer
because I loved you backwards,
used antonyms instead
of synonyms;
grammar was
never my strong suit.
it could be I sleep better
now that my words
anchor no action.
there is a certain
freedom
in my condemnation.
see, you were right
to go.
it was after I made
you a mixtape—
a blank one—and I told you
it was full of all the reasons
we could love.
it was after that,
that you left.
I kept the welcome mat
you walked over.
wipe your shoes, it reads.
even mats have rules. |