T is for Tanka
I am such a lazy bitch. Tankas are 5-7-5-7-7 syllables.
So, let’s be honest
Love poetry is awful.
It’s always contrite,
Contrived, cliche, ugly, and
I want to write it about you.
So I fight the urges
To wax poetic, suppress
The sonnets and haiku.
I won’t write about your eyes
Like oceans, skin like coco.
Instead I write of
Politics, religion, things fit
For a girl as smart
As I am. In my head I
Compare you to summer rain.
Do you see what you’ve
Reduced me to? Metaphor
A child would call used.
I can’t discuss your skin, soft
Your breath, soft, all of you, soft.
I have no way to
Say these things I think of you.
I’m too smart to
Say what I think, too dumb to
Think something more beautiful.
Beautiful like you
When you arch your back, like you
When you look down at
Me, like you when you smile, touch
My face, kiss me soft, like you.
I can’t allow this.
I can’t let you twist my tongue
From cryptic/graceful
To obsessive/obvious
I’m better than this, I swear.
There’s only one way
To prove myself. Set down the
Pen, and live through your
Kiss. Poetry is living
Sweetly romantic like this.