A Conversation With My New Poem
“You are most elegantly composed, so cleverly penned””
The poem breaks wind.
“Will others notice the wisdom I have poured into you?”
The poem begins to rummage in a kitchen drawer.
“You are the perfect child of my creative powers!”
It finds a knife, begins to vigorously saw
at priceless words.
“I think I love you."
It squats on the tiled floor and defecates.
Holding my nose
I carry it out of the house at arm’s length.
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