The Poem that Made the World a Better Place
by Michael Escoubas
He breathed its oxygen even in dark dreams;
each time he dug beneath the surface of things.
Each time he strolled beside the middle fork
of Nebraska’s North Platte river, or gave
lovers beams of moonlight good for snuggling.
He remembered standing, talking among men,
how their cynical words took a toll on him,
lacking all warmth, white-hot, finding fault,
but offering few solutions. He vowed then
and there to make poetry a destructive force.