This poem by Jeremy Glazier is on page 740 of the current issue of The Antioch Review.
Directions for a Duel
Fill the chamber of your pistol
with pinecones, rose petals,
small coins you've already shot holes in.
When you enter the saloon,
the player piano will stop
and for a split second you will know
the hand each player holds.
Keep your eye on the one you came for,
and kill him
when the redhead
winks at you from behind the still.
This will be your sign
that everything is possible.
Sling the body over your shoulder
and bury it in the stomach
of the sandstorm that waits for you
outside the city limits.
This beautiful poem encapsulates a metaphor for the discipline and art of writing poetry. If I were to translate it (non-poetically), I would write something like this:
Fill your mind with texture, fragrance, and ideas you've been bandying about. When you write, time will seem to halt; and for a split second you will see every angle of your subject. Stay focused; when the muse strikes, get the words down on paper. Then you will know you are a poet. Carry your poem to the outside world and add it to the storm of submissions flying around in the mail.
That's the Amy take on it. What's your take? Why do you think Glazier changes the form of the poem after the words "and kill him?"