Poem Some poems name their subjects. The titles are On this or On that, or they hang like small marquees indicating what is playing inside: "Celibacy," "Ostriches at Dusk." Other poems fall into it as they go along. You trip over a word while carrying a tray of vocabulary out to the pool only to discover that broken glass is a good topic. Still others have no subject other than themselves to gnaw on. The fly lands on the swatter. The movie runs backwards and catches fire in the projector. This species apes us well by talking only by itself. Such is often the case with poems afflicted by the same plain title as this one: a sign by the road announcing a bump. Billy Collins