ClaudiaHeaney

Destroy This PoemTo the person grading this poem To the kind, patient woman hovering over this with a pen Waiting to say kind, patient words in response, do me a favor: Stop it. Don’t Patronize me. I did not slave over this with hammer and anvil Shaping it into a masterpiece. I didn’t paint it onto the ceiling of some church, Going blind from the pain and the stress. I didn’t even turn this in on time.And while I’m writing this in my fifth-period economy class, You can bet I’m not concerned with iambs and troches and Italian terza rima. No, I’m concerned with how much water is left in my water bottle. This isn’t a masterpiece. Who are we k...