While Trying To Write A Poem I Realize I Have Nothing To Write About SO I Contemplate Having An Affair

by | Feb 7, 2022 | Issue Twenty Five, Poetry

Because that would at least give me something

to write about. But I think of all the reasons I shouldn’t:

I’d have to wear something other than yoga pants,

have to go somewhere other than the grocery store

or the park because despite romantic comedies, I’m not

meeting anyone there. I’d probably need to not wear

a mask and with that realization my plan goes out

the window because no way in hell am I going

maskless around someone I don’t know. And no,

I didn’t include “because I’m married” to the list

because that’s a requirement for an affair. But this

idea fails, just as this poem is failing, so I saddle up

this sad pony and ride right off the page to the poem

graveyard, which is littered with bones of cliches

and repeated words (mouth, hands, touch, taste),

the discarded bodies of the lovers I’ve written

about endlessly, the images I can’t stop repeating,

the ocean in my throat that keeps drowning the words,

the death that haunts every line. When I get there

I settle onto the soft earth, dig my fingers into

the freshly turned soil and think of my father,

how he once saddled a cow and donned a wig

and rode it in a parade and how this remains

one of my favorite stories about him, how it made

the front page of the local paper, how my mother still

has a copy. And I think of how, under that hot July

sun, I held him in my hand, opened my palm,

and the wind tornadoed him back to the land

he loved. To the land that grazed cattle ad grew

crops and I decide maybe I do have something

to write about.

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