A Poet’s Poem by Brenda Shaughnessy

A Poet’s Poem 

If it takes me all day,

I will get the word freshened out of this poem.

 

I put it in the first line, then moved it to the second,

and now it won’t come out.

 

It’s stuck. I’m so frustrated,

so I went out to my little porch all covered in snow

 

and watched the icicles drip, as I smoked

a cigarette.

 

Finally I reached up and broke a big, clear spike

off the roof with my bare hand.

 

And used it to write a word in the snow.

I wrote the word snow.

 

I can’t stand myself.