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Before the poem

Before I start this poem, I seek
To acknowledge that I sit on the land of the Wequaeesgeek
And that my laptop, at which I peer through thick glasses
drowns islands in the Pacific with greenhouse gases.

I know life has always given me the edge
Due to my Jewish Ashkenazi privilege.
And being male I'm in the patriarchy
At the top of the oppressive hierarchy.

I apologize for my pronoun being 'he'
At least it could have been 'they' or 'we'.
I apologize that all these apologies are fake
And for the real apologies that I didn't make.

Now back to my poem, it occurred at night
I can't let that idea fade, take flight
I didn't have a pen; I should have written it quick
I've lost the thread and now I feel sick.

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Alison A Smith nee Howarth

September 11, 2026 at 12:46 AM

A clever, tightly rhymed meta-poem that lets its self-conscious voice unravel into a very human problem: losing the poem itself. The escalating catalogue of acknowledgements is sharply satirical, while the final stanza lands with wonderfully comic bathos—grand moral anxiety defeated by the missing pen and a vanished midnight thought. My would be best poem always occur when I am driving and by the time I reach my destination it's entered the nether.