Calling Poetry’s Cell
As we sit and reflect on these poems
It’s persistently difficult to take a jump in
Like beginning an essay
Or doing your chores.
Hearing the word “poetry” go right through our ear
Makes us all want to scream and see our way out.
Taking even one slight peek inside a poem’s small room
We’ll immediately see complete darkness and want to slam the door.
We want to close our eyes shut
On the bright and blazing words of the poem.
Forgetting all of the value and the substance of the art.
But all we truly want to do is
Reward the poems with a full paid scholarship to jail
And surprise it with a full life’s sentence.
That the poems will get comfy in their orange jumpsuit
Because they’ll never get their happy ending.