The Poet Laureate said to me:
So out of vogue is rhyme
As for meeting you my dear
I hardly have the time
The newspaper may have said
So much of me to flatter
As if I’d hear a stranger poet
Such caring doesn’t matter
My post is quite political
I had to tap every contact
So the Governor approved
My status under contract
I’m not a Dickinson at all
But a Plath be all of you
Thinking you’ll gain audience
By emoting what is true
The reality is sweetly bitter
I’ve more vital things at hand
I am crowned with a grand title
You would hardly understand
So go buy your Poet’s Market
Your turn to grovel, beg or steal
My importance so overrides
Such weakness as to feel
For you a separate piece
A struggling writer unknown
You did nothing to put me here
Now go away leave me alone.
Ciera S.Louise c. February 15, 2006