There are no Metaphors for Pain

There are no metaphors for pain

Pain is our cabin
our table
the paper we take up
the pen point
the so dark ink
the tear that falls at
the end of this line.

Our
words
ride on pain
harness it
force the bit into its mouth and
jerk its savage head
from side to side until it goes where we want it
to go.

We ride pain
late into the night
until it drops from
weariness
at our insistence that it talk to us
as it runs under our strong hands.

We need no metaphor for pain
we poets.

We own it

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