it doesn’t pay the bills 

or wash the dishes 

or switch the fucking laundry  

from the washer to the dryer  

and then everything gets all moldy—poetry  

it doesn’t buy groceries 

it doesn’t vacuum or mop 

it doesn’t snuggle  

it doesn’t respect personal boundaries 

or women or rules 

poetry especially does not respect rules 

poetry will be late to dinner 

poetry will leave the seat up 

poetry will get you in trouble in the back seat 

of the wrong truck 

poetry will make you name 

your grief, each disillusioned  

belief, each dream you dared reach  

for and fell short of— 

poetry will catalogue 

and qualify each crack  

in your face your life your heart—poetry  

will save your life  

and when you can’t  

even be grateful for that 

it will still testify  

on your behalf