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What Poems Should Do

It is scrunched
In a corner
Of the page
Screaming for attention
And when it
Doesn’t get it
It grabs on
To your hair
One strand and
Slowly but surely
Hoists itself up
Where it encounters
Your warm head
It burrows deep
Through your skull
And settles in
The soft crevices
Of your brain
Like a sore
You can touch
With your tongue
That doesn’t ever
Go away, though
It does hurt
It should strike
A new thought
Something strange, new
That fills up
Your whole mind
Until it is
A part of
Who you are.



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PrettiiAriiJ said...
Dec. 9, 2011 at 8:27 am:
this is cool. I like the explanation here. This is really what poems should do:)
 
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