The poem I am not going to write excuses herself
daily, needs to wash her hair, roust the dust bunnies
from under the bed, empty the worn-out clothes
that malinger in her closet.
The poem I am not going to write excuses herself
daily, needs to wash her hair, roust the dust bunnies
from under the bed, empty the worn-out clothes
that malinger in her closet.
The poem I am not going to write makes promises
to pay off the bills, clean up the pie juice
now baked into the oven, sort the mismatched socks
into almost-acceptable pairs.
The poem I am not going to write believes
the world wants happier messages, the children
need prettier sandwiches in their lunches, the books
deserve better poems than I can write today
