You will publish this poem,
Not because you need to,
Or that as a writer I have
Created a glittering trail of
Glamour and gloria from
My writing desk to the
Literary world.
You will publish this poem,
Not for the thousands of
Extra publications it will
Help to sell. Not for the
Attention that it will
Secure any anthology in
Which it is present.
You will publish this poem,
Not because you like it. It
Doesn’t rhyme, have any
Steady metre or adhere to
Any poetic convention. It
Doesn’t look neat on a
Page or make sense.
You will publish this poem,
Not because you are in any
Way obliged to me, you are
Not. The poem is the ugly
Runt of the meeting of a tired
Mind and a bottle of gin. It
Isn’t a masterpiece.
You will publish this poem,
Not on the merit of it’s overt
Self consciousness or flare
For the dramatic. Not due to
It blushing like a schoolgirl
At the wrong end of an ill
Intended stare.
You will publish this poem,
Not because it is short
And could fill a gap between
Pages four and five, could
Divide free-verse and sonnets.
No. You will publish this poem,
Because it told you to.
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