This is not a poem

 

You will say this is not a poem

You will say there are no similes or metaphors

Like a line of crows

    sitting on a telephone wire

    a murder to all that pass

    afraid to fly on your own

You will say this is not a poem

You will say that there is no form

    That my words

        travel on

the page like

a path that

has faded

from the poems

of the past

You will say this is not a poem

You will say that the words mean nothing

That I’ve not said a thing

That there is no reflection of truth

    or painting of nature

    that there is no reason to read this page

But I write anyway

    Because I know that the best way to survive

        a murder

            is through poetry