It’s like ants
and more ants.
West, east
their little axes
hack and tease.
Your sins. Your back taxes.
This is your Etna,
your senate
of dread, at the axis
of reason, your taxi
to hell. You see
your past tense—
and next? A nest
of jittery ties.
You’re ill at ease,
at sea,
almost in-
sane. You’ve eaten
your saints.
You pray to your sins.
Even sex
is no exit.
Ah, you exist.
Today’s poet, Donna Masini, credits her contemporary Terrance Hayes (featured for poem-a-day April 28, 2011) with introducing her to this poetic exercise in anagrams: Every single line in Masini’s “Anxieties” ends with a word that can be spelled using only the letters A-N-X-I-E-T-I-E-S. Those “ants” and “ants” are quite literally crawling out of “Anxieties.” The result is a poem that doesn’t necessarily convey the exact formula of its form, but your ear does pick up a more general sense of remixing variations on the same sounds.
If you have an interest in anagrams (or porn, or supreme court justices), may I also highly recommend the insanely brilliant “It’s Smut” by Kevin McFadden (featured for poem-a-day April 26, 2010).
Happy National Poetry Month!
Ever anxiously yours,
Ellen