Dammit

I made it! I wrote the stupid thing down. I gave it voice. I really liked it. It was the best Damned poem I ever wrote. It was a fricking *sonnet* for crying out loud! And here I am searching Through one thousand white surfaces Through a monstrous four drawer file cabinet Through two cluttered desks (not one, but TWO!) And everything BUT the poem My divorce papers My German assignments from 1991 Some really whifty German poems I'd love to claim as mine... EVERYTHING is here. One would think it would be in my folder marked Poetry. But naturally, it's not. Poor Sonnet. Did Fame Frighten you? Did you seek out Some disregarded place to cower, covering Your eyes with anthropomorphic hands? I can almost remember you, but were I to Recreate you, it'd be as the lightning bug Is to Lightning. A whimper. Foolish poem. Foolish writer. Always make backups.