I am a poem, but I’m not gonna hurt you

I am a poem, but I’m not gonna hurt you.
(See how I'm not beginning with any weird fogs
On little cat feet
Or Tyger-Tygers, burning bright
But a promise like some simple dog?)

We could be simple together.

No rhymes, no schemes
None of those, like, metaphors
No being read stupid aloud by Mr. Fergusson the
    year you’re doing Romeo and Juliet and his wife
    leaves him and his default sweater and he stops and
    tells the class: Poetry can hurt you
(and cries).
No next day, when they say he’s on leave.

No strange quiet months after that.


Image based on The Tyger, by William Blake.