On Trying to Force a Poem

This poem is a small animal—

maybe a hedgehog—a little

prickly, a little wary,

that may be coaxed into

a patient hand, schooled to stillness.

This hedgehog-poem might be trapped,

forced, broken-lined, bristling,

savage, and dissonant;

but such an animal will never

trust. It’s untamed words

will always seek to slip their lines.

Still a subtle scribe can trick

this verse tame. A paused pen

may soothe the feral lines to lie—

not quiet, never sleeping—

but breathing, alive

upon the page.