I want to write a poem –
the kind that inspires
the kind that lights a fire in your soul
the kind that speaks every word
of your heart’s desires
the kind you’ll want to quote
so that I won’t even care that I peaked
with this poem.
I can’t find the words
and I don’t know what needs to be heard
and when I try to write a rhyme
it sounds absurd.
I start to search for the perfect
the perfect pen
the perfect notebook
the perfect desk
the perfect ergonomic chair
the perfect procrastination.
the clothes make the poet
so I search for “poet outfit” with a flourish
but in my fervent fingering I slip slight right
and hit a p instead of an o.
My thumbs get as far as “poet put”
before the little engine that could
predicts my next words.
“poet put head in oven”
And I think –
Sylvia Plath could find the words
Sylvia Plath needed to be heard
but on this absurd day
she is reduced
to a head
in an oven.
And I wonder –
will anyone remember
© Lee-Ann Khoh
It’s still National Poetry Month for a few more days so I thought I’d share something I wrote after one of Shelby Leigh’s poetry club workshops. (If you join the poetry club and check out the workshop replays, it’s the April 2023 one with Sierra DeMulder.)
Feel free to let me know what you think of the poem, even if what you think is “This is super wanky.” (But if you can articulate something more constructive than that, I’d appreciate it, lol.)