I LEAVE at HOME
concerns about split infinitives,
dangling participles and
and the eye that spots
from across the room
and before anyone asks,
and breaches of capitalization rules.
And Dickens. Yes. He stays back, too.
We will not have page-long paragraphs
comprised of a single sentence
with a dozen dependent clauses,
much as I may love them.
We will not be searching for antecedents.
No, this is seats-of-the-pants
where, when a refugee learns to say
“In pain, me. Go see doctor.”
we hear success.
The finer points will be tended to down the road somewhere.
This is not work for elitists.
Sticklers for form need not apply.
Lovers of people, yes.
This poem stems from a prompt from TSPoetry. The challenge was to write a poem that catalogs a variety of words from a specific field.