Following up on last week’s post, where I did something scary and posted a poem, I’ve decided to start my first weekly feature on the blog. From now on, Thursdays will be for poetry. Sometimes that means I’ll post a poem, other times it means I will talk about poetry I like or discuss the actual writing of poetry. Please let me know in the comments what topics surrounding poems you are most interested in!

Today, I’m sharing another one of my poems. I mentioned in my post on ways to spur creativity that giving yourself constraints is a fun way to try to get things going.    This poem came out of an exercise I gave myself that had a couple of different constraints.   One was to take two seemingly unrelated words and relate them, and the other was a metric constraint.


Saturday Night In Buenos Aires


“The tango is the direct expression of something that poets have often tried to state in words: the belief that a fight may be a celebration.” – Borges

Being a natural blond,
you shine like a golden pennant
in this Argentine dance hall.

Though you are but a novice,
you will attract the attention
of Raul, tango master.

(If you lived here you would know never to look a man in the eye unless you mean to challenge him to a dance, but you don’t live here. You are from Wisconsin and thought it would be quaint to take an authentic dance class on your vacation between collecting local crafts and complaining about the hotel.)

He will march across the room
with the other men falling in
behind him on the dance floor

and you will find you have been
pushed up to the female frontlines
to face off without armor.

It is expected that you
will try to resist, so he will
meet your stare, press his large palm

across your back, and as the
violins start up you will learn
the beauty in surrender.