“Nice poem.” the editors said.
“An interesting topic, but
What’s all this redundancy for?
Cut it out, we may reconsider.”

So you call it redundancy, well,
I thought it was a repetition,
Like a refrain, you know,
For an emphasis, an atmosphere.

I could cut it out, of course,
Made it shopping list style,
Brief and laconic and cold,
Everything just to the point.

Too bad you have redundancy too,
Legs, arms, eyes, all these
Pairs so plainly redundant.
You could do with one leg,
xxxcut
xxxxxxit
xxxxxxxxxout.

Oh, you are feeling attached
To your precious repetitive parts.
It would hurt, it would bleed,
It would make you a cripple.

Isn’t a poem too kind of
Like a living body?
It’s an old notion, I know,
Nowadays out of fashion.

Well, if you ever decide
To cut your redundancies off,
Dear editors, please, let me know.
I may reconsider.