Renaissance

Christina Strigas

If I ever had writer’s block you would see me dead

at some corner in a bar with your typical

bottle of Jack and burnt notebooks. I swear

if  I lost the ability to think through poetry

and write about my ripped up demons,

my past haunts, my future encounters,

then I would be dead inside for sure.

I can barely breathe now with how

real life sucks up my soul in conference

meetings, evaluation of employees,

frustrated children, parents who

neglect, my faults piling up

as I see how awful I could be

when confronted with life,

car crashes, headaches, aging,

poems pouring out like coffee

from a pot.

I took a class at Concordia

called The Renaissance

the History professor

proved that all these statues

had a story, all these white perfect

Roman gods had the same life

as the Greeks, changed a name

deleted a column, added…

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