THE WRONG POEM

I wrote the wrong poem: sure I meant

to write one covered with welts, one

that had been whipped behind

the woodshed for a series of minor

crimes—you saw it, say, rooting

through your medicine cabinet

in search of Percocet, or you caught it,

say, in your underwear drawer, or maybe

it was sitting on the couch eating

the very last Danish when you got home

from work, but that is not

what happened. The poem I wrote

crossed the line entirely: it marched

with the Klan in Selma, it voted against

gay marriage, it fired one of the rifles

at Kent State. It was a bastard through

and through, but when it turned up

on my doorstep, homeless, ragged,

out of breath, I forgot all about its

many faults, prejudices, failures,

and wrote the damn thing down.

About Carl James Grindley:

Carl James Grindley grew up on an island off the West Coast of Canada, and studied in the US and Europe. He has taught creative writing at Yale University, and works at The City University of New York. His book Icon was published in 2008 by No Record Press. He has recent work in Anatomy and Etymology, A Bad Penny Review, and Atticus Review. Grindley is a founding editor of The South Bronx Review.