I haven’t written any poetry in a long time.
I’ve been hoarding my words,
Saving them up to binge on a novel,
Or at least, on a short story.
I put myself on a word diet
And now I’m starving for a juicy symbol,
A perfectly ripe metaphor,
Or a pithy phrase.
Give me a meal of good, meaty couplets with a side of canzone,
A saucy limerick or two,
A haiku snack
When nobody is watching, I’ll pile my plate high
With nouns, adjectives, adverbs,
Suck the marrow from verbs
To feel their energy in my belly.
I’m so tired of high-fiber non-fiction;
Empty calories of self-help, and dry, tasteless news.
If I knew I was going to die tomorrow,
I’d never stop swallowing poems whole.