An experimental poem.
I will push at it and tear at it, and make up things all about it.
I will pretend it is always yours and you will pretend it’s mine.
We will not defend and or care for it, but will defend our lack
of defensiveness about it, and may even send it far away for
extended periods of time, cuz it’s better to be absent from it.
Maybe it will want to stay away, and try to belong to others,
who will want to learn even more from it, then we will grieve
thinking we have lost it, or we might give it to our brother or
sister so they can play at longing for it. It will not make a big
stink, instead it will try harder to make us want it even more.
And it will come back to tell its lies about where it’s been, will
tell in a whisper about how it has changed but will not leave a
doubt that it is the same old it for us to want to be in relation
too. It won’t take much to convince us we’ve always wanted
it. Cuz that’s the way it is and how it will’s to wound all of us.
Note: Blame this poem on Poeticgrin, he had the temerity to suggest that one of my poems showed a mastery and control of line length and form. I think I got lucky with that aspect of that particular poem. With this poem, let’s just say IT was not so easy, I had to stretch long to get it…