The Middle of the Poem
This poem that you now
Hold in your hands
Has only a middle
No beginning no end
The second you blink
Your half way through
Smack dab in the middle
Without a clue
Moving along
Nary a care
Before you know it
You're hitting thin air
With nothing that you
Can grasp onto
No beginning no end
In front of you
Take this from the middle
For all that it's worth
Subtract a few lines
Take out a few words
That would start it out right
Then perfectly end
This poem of the middle
You now hold in your hands
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