Does this poem need a trite little backstory? No. It’s specific – that’s the one piece of advice I’ve gotten, over and over: “be more specific”. Billy Collins told me in my Masterclass, an editor at Ghost City Review let me know when I asked for feedback following a rejection, and my mother told me after wrinkling her nose at one of my more half-assed attempts at being deep. Here’s a poem – don’t guess what it’s about.
An Evening Alone with a Question I don’t need plans tonight Actually I have a recipe I’ve been dying to try And a candle to keep me company I’ve got a record that I turned on To rumble and purr Like you do If you came home, though Paid your tab and got back in the car You could spin me in lazy circles around the living room Make me forget about the record and the Pino When you come in, late I’ll let you try the apple crumble And tell you how relaxing it was To wonder where you were What you were doing Why you didn’t want to bring me All while sipping on a mostly-empty glass. Here it is: try it