The Next Poem I Write

The next poem I write will not have the Eiffel Tower made from crayons nor Buckingham Palace in the shape of a sandwich; not an old guitar rusting strings along a forgotten tune, or a girl crying beside a window. The poem will not have a hero to wipe those tears away, or a truth unveiled to explain them; the potential poem will not be about a failure or a person in love, nor a person who scratches at a doorway to escape. The next poem I write will not be about me, neither will it be about last year’s Christmas; not about the awkward growing up of a teenager, or a regret of saying ‘I love you’… and definitely not about me. This possible next poem will not explain an existential feeling, or recall a place once visited; it won’t argue a point, be controversial and rude. It won’t be written purely to throw mud in someone’s face. The next idea I have could be the next poem that I write but will not be written like a poem at all.