Before you Metaphor-ize
Poetry Sunday
Before you metaphor-ize
the blood warm insides of a sacrificial animal
into the red mist moon
of an obscure planet. Before
the whales are hauled to the shores
and the elephants choke in poisoned water
and the wildfires jump fences — before the bleeding oceans
of a once inexhaustible life
cast the die
of your pen’s ink,
before the personifications,
and the similes
and those goddamn hyperboles — Stop and wonder
What could’ve been
if you didn’t wait
for the leaf to become ash
and the heartbeat to leave the chest. What could’ve been
if you didn’t wait for the muse
to spawn
while the reflection of
a burning world
played in the eyes. What could’ve been
if the world wasn’t just another casualty
of your writer’s block — an organ donor
for your alcoholic muse. Isn’t this
how we got here
how we made the world
as vivid as our reality
as terrifying as our nightmares — standing there
memorizing horror.
