The Poem That Rhymes
Maybe I'll write a poem. And maybe it will rhyme, and it will be all about the trenches of time, and when you read it, it will sound like wind chimes, and maybe someone on a street table, will sell it to you for a dime, because your wife likes romantics but she'll know it isn't yours, and the fact that you thought she would is your biggest crime, so maybe you'll sit down with a pencil and pretend, that you're some poet as you drink whiskey and lime, but you'll only pour a bottle of black ink over your words, a failure as much as a talking mime, shoving the drenched paper into her hands, whispering that you're only sorry that you couldn't get it to rhyme. -anna sluder