I Googled what poetry meant today;
because I haven’t been able to open up—
my cereal boxes properly lately.
And when you show me a Polaroid of your cat
sitting on your lap
I can’t help but think how fat
your thighs look in that Patriotic bathing suit.
It’s not that you cry on command,
but that you just feel so deeply. In
every channel. In every void.
You want to be one of those people
you write poetry about.
A tangible collection of just words.
Even though I fell in love with a being.
But even with handfuls of poems
you’ll never forgive me, because I always
gave you the ugliest blankets, ate all the grape-flavored
things, killed your internet pets, and mistook apple juice for
beer and got drunk off concentrate.
I Googled what poetry meant today.
-sonja lynn mata
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