This is a poem
with a title that tumbles into the first line,
headlong, headstrong, with a sense of
entitlement. A trickster poem, its first offence
that thing you think a name. This is a poem
that doesn’t wait for you to collect or gather
thoughts; doesn’t sit there while you pause,
and then, begin. This is a poem that takes you in,
a sales pitch to itself; that shifts the posts to kick
you into some uncertain goal. But, don’t fret.
You don’t have to wait til the end. You can leave
at any point, grammatical or otherwise.
If this is a poem you really despise then please,
stop reading. Leave. Don’t bother with courtesy.
We won’t pause, won’t even remember because
this is a poem like life, you see.