This poem will bore you.
Or better yet, undo you,
disassemble your world.
There is a familiar word in this poem.
You think it is comforting word.
But after pondering this word,
you realize it is seismic.
I will give you a clue:
a three letter word
in the ninth stanza, line three,
fifth word in from the left.
Stop!
I know where you’re headed:
ninth stanza, line three,
fifth word in from the left.
But don’t go there. Not yet.
Not until you have read every word,
experienced the quake,
assessed the therapeutic damage,
drawn up plans to reform the rubble.
But you’ve read ahead anyway,
counted down to stanza nine,
followed your finger to line three,
counted the words to fifth from the left.
That single word that could
both alter and altar your life.
What is your word?
Say it out loud.