In Vain

I am not
writing a poem about you.

This is not like that Carly Simon song
and you're not hidden somewhere in the lyrics
in vague references to sweaters and jeans and
fond glances of yourself in the mirror
that only you and
I
would get.

Instead, I am writing about writing. (Again.)
About dissecting memories into
the perfect (or not so perfect) word.
A stanza. Hardly ever a rhyme-- they come out absurd. (See?)

Today I am writing about nothing,
something you were always very good
at feeling.

KAW April 3, 2009

******************************

Okay. I'm coming out of the poetry closet. I'm going to try to write a poem a day during National Poetry month. I guess there are organized efforts to do this. I did it yesterday by accident, then saw other folks talking about doing it on Facebook so thought I'd jump on the bandwagon. I'm sure many many days are going to suck, because I always suck at poetry when I force it, and almost always write about writing about poetry. But that's the part of THIS poem that I like-- the way it sneaks up on you at the end. That's my favorite way of writing a poem-- kind of like a sonnet's reversal, but not so formal and sonnet-y.

So then. We'll see if I can keep it going. Probably not. But it's worth the effort.