My last poem

I wrote this in 2019, shortly after accidentally becoming a poet again after an absence of several months. I don’t want to do the open mic trope of explaining the poem for ages, so here it is.

My last poem

5 My last poem original
02/08/19 00:26

Tonight I remembered why I don’t write it any more
this genre, this whole style is like an old building
because the architecture of poetry
(as varied as academics like to pretend it is)
has laws I never cared for
that grab at me now
that grew strong in my absence

and I guess that walking through the newly erected entrance hall
to this thing of words is like walking back into a family video
and seeing another angle to focus on
another thing to construct

and each line is pored over before being poured into the shape
of little metal coffins chugged into data graves
or pen and paper, hasty scribbles made modernist by train tracks
and skipping tracks, the changing lines
of our favourite record

and all those traits I glued onto some shell
cosplaying the new-new-new-romantic
who would probe the new frontier
then vanish, leaving behind a single charred space helmet

walking myself back into poetry
wasn’t part of the mission
I was always headed someplace else