We like
what we like.
There is no way to know
what we like till
we see it. So
surprise us. Could be April
and not sweet rain but snow
blowing down wet soot
through the bare
branches. Make us
laugh. Inspire us
to such feelings as seem
appropriate to the matter.
We don’t care whether it’s cut
into lines or comes in
blocks of prose.
Make us cry.
