(x = space)

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Draft Day without the NFL

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I can’t find anything acceptable

Above

You know I mean my manuscripts

Don’t you

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I’m trying

And I try myself

To write without the thought

The king pines for

And doesn’t have

To send his words to heaven

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My I should borrow

Boudica’s war cry

If not

The rebel yell

Or simply howl

Like wolves

And you know

Ginsberg

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Or dive into the wreck

With Rich

Anthologized

With Aunt Jennifer

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While watching episodes

In which

The inspector always fall

For someone ingenue

Yet capable

Each time

Every hour

Even in cast changes

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Do we get the devices

Or is this the sponsor’s guess

About our

Expectations

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Like the result

In the surveys of

Romance readers

Who require

It turns out

Set things for happy reading

Bodice-ripping by page 80

Some such

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And there is happiness in this

And they buy books and

Configure ratings

While I have nothing

To select

From selections

No satisfaction from the drafting

Of the several things above

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Are they on wings

Perhaps

Above what is above

A teasing presence

Not meant

To be

And not in fact

I’m simply frustrated

I haven’t invented

Iliads and odysseys

Today

Not yet

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Ask a saint

Pray on the splinter

Of a bone

Or ask the Lord

Herself

To have a angel

Whisper

Wait

That would be cheating

It would be

Yes

I don’t have to ask

I ask

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C L Couch

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Photo by Alexander Zvir on Unsplash

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