“Ars Poetica” by Mark MacDonald
Poetry’s those things
that nobody talks about:
a broken promise, a secret affair—
the daughter who you slapped
with the back of your hand.
Poetry’s not water or medicine.
Poetry’s a disease.
Poetry’s those things
that nobody talks about:
kerosene in the blood, fire in the genitals—
the bones that she broke
when she flew down the stairs.
Poetry’s a killer;
It stalks you in the night.
Poetry’s those things
that nobody talks about:
a clause in your contract;
the bruise beneath her eye.
Poetry’s your neighbor’s dog:
the dog that you poisoned
for barking too loud.
