my body is unaware
that today is a holiday
it is new year’s eve 2013
therefore
i needn’t report
to the salt mine
but here i am
at 6 am
coffee pot possessed
as good morning gods sit resplendent
upon my altar smiling
the a.m. news programs
hold no special fascination
so i migrate to my office
having decided early reading
whilst the rest of my house sleeps
is my favorite preoccupation
my fingertips
blindly feel the spines
lining the shelves
i won’t look with my eyes
i want to be surprised
ah little thin things with staples
i’m in the chap book section
one two three
pull now…
…oh hell
it’s
his…
his chap book
labeled #13 of 42
well of course it is
now that he’s dead
i suppose i could
go ahead and read it
half way through
a personal message ink scratched
which has waited years to be read
between chapters
delineating
life and death
“For my sweetest of potatos. All my love. -X”
perhaps i should drop to my knees and weep
but instead
i think
he misspelled potatoes, really?
never speak ill of the dead…
…unless they deserve it
always ten degrees off
a fuck up to the end
well, at least the sumbitch
was consistent
i’m reshelving it
my selection finger
moving on to a lesser symbol of sin
to my enduring and beloved
Hester Prynne
One reply on “no person or animal other than the author was harmed during the production of this poem”
So Thankful for the Inspiration of your Talent this year. Blessings for a Peaceful and Joyous New Year~