The Poem We Would Die For
There are warning signs
when one comes on —
a sharp tightening,
a thickening, clogging
in your chest —
like when a love poet
struggles with a cliche
the word “heart” pumping ironically
in line-after-line
consticting the flow
with “…break” or “with all my…”
as if we didn’t know,
and there’s crippling pain
coursing through your arms,
your writing hand gets numb
sweats heavily of “soul” and
the urge to make up metaphors
for it, stressful comparisons
where the vehicle can slip
too easily off its jack
and clump down on to your foot
so hard you’ll limp a line or two
till the angel of death
holds his breath
waiting for a closing couplet
so supple it
will follow us to our grave
and make it all seem worth it.
J. K. Durick is a writing teacher at the Community College of Vermont and an online writing tutor. His recent poems have appeared in Shot Glass Journal, Black Mirror, Third Wednesday, Thrush Poetry Journal, and Leaves of Ink.