Crowd Control

I can’t babysit them like I used to;
there’s no time to set them down gently.
When I get interrupted, as I often do,
my poems don’t queue neatly
like patrons at the post office.

Rather, they are a raucous crowd:
unruly soccer fans, kicking,
clawing, screaming at one another,
clamoring for my attention,
desperate to be noticed.

I hear them strangling now,
words congealing on the page,
stagnant as a blood clot.
Scabbing over, they will harden.
The leftovers wait to be picked off,
wait, impatiently, for their reprieve.

Photo credit: John Martinez Pavliga, via flickr // CC BY 2.0
(I realize this is a crowd of football fans, not soccer fans, but they certainly look raucous to me!)


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s