I wanna poem to tell me
it’ll be okay.
I want a poem to say
all the stray words
stuck in my throat.
I want to toke on it, roll
the bits into thin paper, light
the end, and inhale long.
Yeah, I want a strong antidote
of meter and rhyme, telling me
this time hopelessness is just
a long word for lost faith.
So gimme a poem.
Show me how the grey expanse
gives way to cerulean.
Give me words I can chew,
metaphors I can swallow,
images I can drink.
Cover me with a blanket
crocheted with rhyme.
I need the measure of poetry,
to rid me of this stilted, prose life.
I’m holding a blade to my neck,
and that’s not a metaphor.
So please, gimme a poem.
©Ami Mattison
©Ami Mattison
