why i write poetry

canal, drained

 

(because)

there are too many pine-sown miles
down sixty-four east between here
and the coast,
not enough syllables
in a night.

because the lightning flash is silent

and the cobblestones too loud,
chattering away our past
over slip-slick mouths.

because they pull
fewer bodies
from the dark of this water
than one might think

and our image
is a birdcage that goes
blood-deep,
is reduced to matchsticks
and catches flame,
sinks again.

the lightning, as i have said,
is silent.

because some suns
were born broken
and some days
destined to break and
once not many ago
i found an ant
in the sugar jar, drowning.

because (i
am not worth loving, sad, though)
some afternoons
there is a july morning
with open windows
and no thunder but
tucked in the space
where it should be
stands a poem.

11 thoughts on “why i write poetry

    • aww, Stacy! you shouldn’t take me too literally! the full line, in my head as i hear it, is “”i am not worth loving, sad,” which comes from a line in a song that i’ve used before, translated roughly as “i always want to be happy; sad, i’m not worth the effort.” anyway. 🙂 thanks for all you said!

  1. You have tapped into my Appalachian blood with this piece. Just exquisitely written. “An ant in the sugar jar, drowning”…the whole thing is powerful, emotional imagery just working me from every angle. The last line of the piece says it all.

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