Ribbit
Like T.S Eliot
I will not sleep tonight
or consider the imaginary
dreams.
They are the ones
I didn’t have.
Insomnia isn’t a poem
or a present, for lighter
beings,
who bend like daisies,
when the wind blows
in the aggressive Spring.
February
forgot how to spell itself
along with the teacher
who earns less
than her worth
on Earth.
I learned how to spell
ribbet today.
I still learn things,
teaching Pre-K.
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