Fugate

Perhaps I should not have read these poems just after Brendan’s story, because I kept waiting for raunch. Not to say that these poems needed that; I just thought I would preface with that little side note. Love poems are hard. As writers we are God to the audience—not in an “I own you, do what I say or suffer my lightning bolt” sort of way, but and omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent sort of way. It is the writer who tells, who knows, knows all sides, and is willing to tell. It’s hard to write a love poem because you’re always in it, always there, and it is hard to gain perspective on a moment, on the present. It’s hard because you care. Hindsight is twenty-twenty for a reason. Look back in a few months. If the poem is still great, it’s great. But you might find you want to change some things.