I need a poem
By Jane Roper, non-poet
.
I need a poem
about resisting despair
when the world feels like
a knife in my kneecap
or a boulder in my shoe
or a hot cast-iron skillet on my forehead
or some other very unpleasant thing.
.
I am not a poet
clearly.
I can, however, make
line breaks
to trick you
into thinking that this
is a poem.
It is not a poem.
OR IS IT?
.
I need a poem
by Maya Angelou or Mary Oliver or Richard
Blanco
or any halfway decent poet, really.
I’d even take an MFA student.
I need a poem about how there is succor to be found
in the scything wings of the swallow
and the daisy’s hopeful countenance.
You know. That sort of thing.
But better.
Much, much better.
.
I need a poem
with a repeating line, like “I need a poem,”
to rock me like a cradle while this dumpster fire burns.
But with way better similes than “rock me like a cradle”
And probably no mention of dumpster fires
either.
Definitely nothing about the distant bang of boots and bullets,
or bleeding wombs.
It’s just too much alliteration. And horror.
.
I need a poem
that will kindle resolve
in the tinder of my tender heart.
Hey, that sounded nice just then—
the consonance, the internal rhymes.
But probably overkill.
Sorry.
.
Maybe I need a poem
with a variant on that repeating line
and a reminder that the osprey
also fear the specter of fascism
but you don’t see them freaking out about it, do you.
Be like an osprey, I want this poem to tell me.
An osprey that votes, and writes letters, and steadily builds
its heaven-high nest
instead of freaking the fuck out.
.
I need a poem
that will exhort me to be like the sun
which daily insists on obliterating the darkness,
like a daisy’s hopeful countenance.
Ha ha. Call back.
.
Seriously, though, I need a poem.
Shouldn’t there be one going viral right about now?
Amanda Gorman, where are you?
HELP.
.
I need a poem
to get me through this shitshow
and I suspect that you do,
too.
.
I’m sorry.
I’ve got nothing.
All posts on Jane’s Calamity are free and publicly available, but writing things (other than poetry) is how I make my living. If you enjoy my work, please consider upgrading to a paid subscription, or buying my book. (Below.) Thank you!
I need a rhyme
to make this time
quickly align
from slime
to sublime
when politics allows freedom
to chime
xx to you Jane
Erika Dreifus shared your post and hey, you are a poet after all. I wrote the following poem after Trump was elected the first time. Still totally applicable this time around. Hoping the last few lines offer some grace?
Post-Election Poem for the People
Come, let’s not harness the hyperbole,
advance more blame into this new day
where ego blots out reason.
We name our murderers
with a stark, passive regularity.
In the face of our fear,
That old past is reborn in all
its disgusting glory, every insult
shredding our mother
tongue, the dialects of difference
bleeding into the gutters.
This is a delicate effacement of ourselves,
like a slow, stupid fog.
Our country needs a pair of linguistic crutches,
now that every intonation is a challenge.
How can the words rebirth us?
Let us find some courage to keep parsing the phrases,
Let’s layer the world with language,
incanting against the inanity that we all live in.