[Mister Saint]: 79.Poetry.Contemporary Backlash

Written after leafing through The Scribner Anthology of Contemporary Short Fictionand reading "A Good Man is Hard to Find" by Flannery o'Connor"

"Contemporary Backlash"

Today's to-do's are done.
She's flung her bag into the wall.
She's set ablaze her texts.
And all her numbered pages teem
With doodles, notes, and scrawls--
those that are not burning.

And add to that, she bit
in half her pencil.

Demanding, "Why? What is this tripe?
This drivel I just wrote?
A poem about fast food?
My God, I've sold my soul!"

"Ow well," she sighs, "it must be so.
This IS what people want to read
Or else it would have died
Like Disco, thank you God.
But how do I reveal my voice
When all the subject matter sucks?
Sucks like vacuums?
No, too easy.
Sucks like black holes?
Easy, still.
Oh, I have it now. It sucks
like modern fiction!"

She knew her notion to be apt.
She loved her rhyme,
and rhythm, too.
But those are bad words,
devil-speak!
"I swear to God, I hate this dross!
What housewives stormed the gates
Of writing? 'Ha!' they cackled, 'let's write tritely!'
Did someone write it into law?
'Our fantasies are dead and gone,
let's get the students writing
on their trips in cars
or days at work. That's fascinating!
Keep them verbally masturbating
'till we know what to do.'"

"It makes me wish for vomit bags
In back of every class,
Because this modern fiction makes
me ill, sick to my... stomach."