Alyssa Trivett writes

On Poetry

I never wrote poetry for any other

loose demons or angels

swinging off of streetlights 

or breaking glasses at the bar.

I never scrawled a line

for the ones chasing ice cream trucks.

I never scraped a stanza

for the wanderers

sleeping in abandoned cars

or on park benches.

I only fired my neurons

and plucked words 

from the weary head

for my own self

as my withering fingers

and electric shocked wrists

fire away at the tip-tap toy keyboard.

She, Typing --  Liu Xiaoxuan