Firing Squad, an Ars Poetica
[ poetry - april 09 ]
They didn't treat my friend so well.
They were not pleased with what he'd made.
They shot his corpus full of holes.
They bled my friend across the sheet.
They knocked that sucker good and dead.
They took the corpse, dismembered it.
They cut the heart out, stomped it flat.
They certified it wouldn't beat.
They said, How dare you moralize
to us, tell us the thing it's all
about, the things that we should do.
In poetry's the only place
didacticism's safe - perhaps
because the readers are so few.
And yet the story of my friend
is better for the violence.