To Hold a Gun to a Poem’s Head

Hours of edits amount to extraction by threats and pain
A promise to maim less and live longer
In exchange for another drop of meaning

Worked over, a poem surrenders its extra words
Economizes to the bone
But it is unlikely to reveal one syllable of additional truth

For willing wills are given to spills
While forced marches and sonnets
Would say anything to make the beating stop