from THE CHARGE OF POETRY
Hazel Smith

some say that metaphor
is bourgeois or patriarchal
perhaps it is but I've nothing against metaphor
or any other poetic regime
unless it becomes a straight jacket
something you have to do
like standing to attention
or licking the boots of your betters
I like metaphor which strips off and then cross dresses
metaphor which is slightly infirm
a house which might fall down if you slammed the door too hard
I like a poem which relocates by burning its visa
a poem which won't fit in and do what everyone else in the family does
which never combs its hair or gets shaved
which takes the chair away when someone is trying to sit down
which sings and shows off and makes an exhibition of itself like Madonna
a poem made out of trash and rudery and rubble
which campaigns in baggy clothes for radical change
till it's hoarse in the throat and forgets its own slogans
and everything it says means so little that
it persuades me to drop everything
quit the house without locking the doors or shutting the windows
leave the bills-even the gym membership-unpaid
and breathlessly, recklessly, shamelessly
run with its rhythm.

(reprinted from Milk Magazine #4)