Fugacity 05
Online Poetry Anthology

Just another poem

Most times when you write a poem
you think that it is wonderful,

and that you’re the one who made it
must mean that you are special.

You put it in the folder
and go outside to mow the lawns

or pick the beans, and find yourself
reciting it, that’s how good it seems.

Then, when it’s time to type it up
you find that it’s gone flat.

The words appear mundane, the imagery is off.
You wonder if it’s possible

to fix it up.
Whole lives can be like that.