< Volume II: Issue 1 >
I Can Not Always Claim To Be a Poet
by Elaine Body
I can not always claim to be a poet
Sometimes I’d rather swallow myself
Than to write down what died that day
But I can claim to be better than the way
My bones bang together
When I am too busy bending
I find myself swallowing hammers
Filling myself up with the taste of metal
Because metal is smart enough not to bend
In the first place
And even though I keep pages filled
I don’t always know what to say
Sometimes--
Even those that sleep with suitcases under their tongue
Lose their words
And I would love to consider myself the one
That’s good with the comebacks
The perfect punch lines
But personally
I hate punch lines
I hate lines
Lines make me nervous
Like I am expected to continue
The idea that we are not full of bullshit
That we are not full of waiting
Waiting--
For the line that brings us to our knees
Because the air that comes out of us
Can be just as dangerous as the fist
We hide in our pockets
So I admit
I can’t always claim
To be a poet
Because sometimes I’d rather swallow myself
Than to write down
What died
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