For the Sake of the Children

Let’s not make a scene— not in front of the metaphor-curious. We owe them a semblance of shared syllabic stability. You take Tuesdays, I’ll keep weekends and the enjambments. Let’s split the metaphors equitably— you keep flame, I’ll keep ash. No one touches liminal. I’ll speak highly of your similes at open mic, nod with gentle gravitas when they ask if we’re still...collaborating. We’ll stage polite reposts, perhaps a comment or two— Stunning work! Your voice is missed! Even though our voices are on everything. Loudly. We’ll give them what they crave: poised poets posing as lovers in the filtered light of someone’s Instagram story. Not because it’s true— God, no. But because some of the haiku kids just found their footing, and I won’t be the one to shake their form.