Brent Goodman: What This Poem Is All About
I won’t believe in god
but agree every soft machine
deserves a creator. Given the choice
I’d cremate all my clothes
because I long to escape
the velocity between my skin
and every mirror. I’ve sealed
the windows for winter, set
the clocks back. What dies in
this poem is a small fish
leaping to the carpet. Your life
story means even less to me
online. What’s born
in this poem is the sudden
floodlit front yard when
a deer wanders through.
Why worry about machines growing
wings before us? I’ll be
the part of the poem looking
everywhere for the door.
BRENT GOODMAN is the author of The Brother Swimming Beneath Me (2009, Black Lawrence Press). His work has appeared in Pebble Lake Review, Poetry No Tell Motel, Diode, Gulf Coast, and elsewhere. He lives in Rhinelander, Wisconsin.
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