Mule's Kick Poem by Steve McCord

A whole day does not seem too long
To spend birthing,
A whole year does not seem excessive
To rear up
A poem.
To change its diapers,
Take it to school,
Then endure its adolescent snarls…

Until it can stand on its own,
Without explanation or apology;
Until it can drive itself home,
Until it can feed itself
From the souls it nourishes.

If it can know when to pack
a mule's kick to the calloused
or gently place
forehead kisses on the stricken.
It can roam the fringes,
wade in the main stream and
absorb a flurry of commentator jabs.

If it can survive sagging bookshelves,
averted eyes and a mockery of dust;
if it can persevere podiums,
erratic microphones and butchered readings-
living still a hearty life,
the poem is done.