People think that poetry
has to be a certain way

look a certain way

sound a certain way

but at night,
when it’s just me
and the words
and a white, dazzling page

a raw outpouring
of rage, or grief
a siren song of sadness

I know better
than to believe in that

and to think with my heart

and not traditions
or conformities  

and to trust in myself
and the words,
and that white, dazzling page