Stationery

what can a poem do put sit

twiddle its thumbs in the palpable

dark / wonder at its strange

composition of lines and symbols

strewn here and there about the page

what can a poem do but wait

check its pocket watch / feel for

its ticket / tip its hat to the conductor

and board the train of thought

till it should arrive / a little behind

schedule / set its luggage down eagerly

on the empty page / and find itself

quite alone in the very world

it thought would welcome it

for what can a poem do but die

only half-understood at the pen's

dark door / can it look in the mirror

see its deformity and shake its head

knowing that no one

will ever know

how beautiful it was before