Magnetic Poetry Bore Poem by Patti Masterman

If you look closely enough
You can see the white bones of the magnetic poetry
Sticking out beneath my trousers; I wanted to write poetry
But I followed too many rules, and I rhymed
God forsaken special purgatory that rhymers are exiled to.

You're in the wrong century; man, maybe even the wrong sex?
Come to think of it, you even (guffaw) think that
Things going up must come down, and that if you love someone
And let them go, they'll come back just to thank you
For giving them freedom to leave in the first place-
Wrong, diphthong-breath!

And may God save my soul from overt descriptions,
For ignoring the sins of civilization at large,
For failure to make critical social commentary,
And for noting, that nooses are always uncomfortably tight
Especially after sticking your own neck in.

If only I had chosen more enlightening themes
Roosters that crow raucously while you're having sex
And stains on ceilings representing withheld orgasms
There's a Ouija like quality to the magnetic tiles
So now I'm hoping one of my alternate selves
Will get into poetry in a big way.