(I wrote a poem today
that was so bad
that I had to laugh.
I began to get sad
and just wished
that I could
vomit up
the words belonging to
the feelings
which held me hostage,
but all I got
was an
insuppressible
chuckle.)
Alone.
Corinthian.
Black Widow.
Brick window ledge
against
my inner
thigh in the morning and
at night.
Coffee, black.
Cogitate on
copper
crowns.
Silver swan
surreptitiously
sighing.
Purple piccolo
piping a pastoral
promenade.
Lonely?
No,
just…
Alone.
(There, that’s better.)