Thursday, January 17, 2008

poet need the pain

Last night in bed I wrote the greatest poem ever written.
It kept running through my head
and I beamed with pride at
having outperformed every poet
alive or dead.

You were asleep,
and I didn't have the heart
to move your head from my chest
so I could jot it down.
Soon I fell asleep and the poem flew away
and buried itself in an unmarked grave,
totally forgotten.

I never remembered a word of it
and I really don't care
because you were warm and fit me perfectly.


Michael Callahan

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