Poor Student Apologies
Image by Amanda Chisholm
than papers. Forgive me, Dean, dear poet
the phones at two jobs will not answer
themselves. Do you know how often I must rest
my pen to let grievances in my ear?
People say I am the crazy one, picking yellow leaves
in autumn, begonias in my hair for spring,
a vulture dries her feathers in the sun
wings spread wide. Song birds fly South
in the winter but I must trudge North instead.
I spill coffee on each day's shirt.
Flannels with stripes overlapping.
A road map with no direction.
Books with empty pages and verses I
cannot understand, but fifteen pages due
about the hundreds I've read,
Morrison would laugh at my troubles.
Hemingway would say drink more gin.
Have I told you my brother believes in Jesus?
He thinks he will fly in the rapture,
that I'll just burn with the rest.
The click click click of fingernails on a desk.
Frogs boil slowly in big metal pots, never knowing
they're cooking. I suppose I’ll leave my light sweater
at home, and I’ll wait to eat lunch
because I hear frog legs taste like chicken.