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.
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