I Can’t
By Karin Gold
I can’t write poetry.
I never could.
Words don’t come out
the way I think they should.
My words fly out my mouth
choppy, awkward, and broken
Like a poor one-winged dove.
An attempt at grace
That fails miserably.
I can’t write poetry.
I really can’t.
The thoughts that
cloud my mind
are just too loud.
Too much for
my mouth to form.
For my hand to write.
I can’t write poetry.
I never will.
It feels too odd
forming thoughts
while molding them
into short lines and
counted syllables.
Seems a little contradictory.
I can’t write poetry.
I never could.
Published on page 48 of the Spring 2012 issue of Leviathan.
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