The Poem I’m Going To Write After This One’s Done

It will be full, no room for air.
It will call out every offense I’ve suffered
as if all were equal.  It will offer
no image not in the public domain.
It will taste bitter until I spit it out
and then it will taste like triumph.
It will be loud as a windstorm
on an already-scoured plain.
It will connect invisible dots
wherever I can find them.  It will have
moments that make you swallow
other moments that are inedible.
It will be musical and disjointed
with leaps across ages and countries.
It will focus a floodlight on a broad area.
It will call up recognizable names.
It will follow sense with nonsense
and mix the two.  It will insist
and cajole and exhort and define
and coax and seduce and by the time
it’s complete it will deconstruct
and exhaust and reject
and stick with you for minutes and
you are going to love it in the moment
and never think about it again
but it will be printed on a T-shirt you can buy
and the letters will flake off early
so it ends up as a shadow in your wash
and you’ll give the shirt to Goodwill
and that’s my distribution network.
It is going to be something,
I promise you that.  It’ll be done soon
and you’ll see.  You’ll see.