Why do I write poems that are sad?
When we celebrate, we drop the letter on the ground
Which says, “Congratulations! You have won…”
And we hug each other, and dance around.
Nor is the happy message profound.
Perhaps the mother makes it all about her son.
It doesn’t come up with a beautiful sound.
This letter, bringing good news,
Is true. It is not a ruse.
Whereas my poem cannot be good news.
And this is what a poem is: no good news.
No one would read a poem, if it weren’t a ruse.
Either you make a vow in the air
To show, on impulse, that you really care,
Or you draw up a contract, and if you break
It—here, read of it—my heart will ache.