Pumpkin Seeds For Brains

Na/GloPoWriMo 2019 #28: Challenge Write a meta poem or  poem about poetry:

 

Do you know that thing you do to words Anita?

That thing where you bang them together on a page and you

cut and nail and draw all over them

and in the end you stand up and  call  your Freak show of malformed words

Poetry?

 

Don’t do that.

 

Poetry should flow and dance

and leave a trail of starlight  in it’s wake

It should shush you into silence

it should make you feel light and

you should always

but always

sit in reverence

as you read it, hear it absorb it into your unyielding skin

like flowers

in a field

feasting on sunshine.

 

So in all politeness I reply:

 

I have pumpkin seeds for brains

and a dark place in my chest where my heart used to be.

I always write about the things crawling and nesting  inside of me.

 

I am like  Poetry’s weird Auntie

who shows up at Funerals

and laughs at the graveside

as the coffin is being lowered into the ground

and everyone wonders as they stand there silent and somber

 

” Who in the Hell invited her?”