When deep within its nebulous corset
the poem dares disturb the peace
for God’s sake, do not make eye contact.
At best it’s an axe-grindy tattletale
at worst a begloomed pilgrim wandering
the road less traveled. Poems are,
of course, notoriously short on epidermis.
Dylan Thomas used to describe a poem
as walking over glass on your eyeballs.
Unpigeonholability’s one of the forces
that makes poetry the raspberry in the face.
These vowel movements—combative,
dopamine-inducing, stabby–will help
a poet grow up, immediately make him want
to do something else.
(Found in Poetry review of Carmine Starnino’s Lazy Bastardism by Michael Lista and Gwyneth Lewis)
Editor’s Note: Writing this poem made me giggle.