Thursday, September 19, 2013

Woe is Me

I busted my literary behind,
preparing a manuscript that’s
either morbid or memorializing
depending on perception.

Amateur miscalculation in ink remaining
to be remedied, by easy roll to local library
than the post office for first class mail
to San Francisco.

Massive smear down every page
marks freshly printed manuscript
necessitate Monday morning overnight
mail to meet deadline.

 Three weeks later entry fee check
remains uncashed.  Poet sweats,
thinking she’d rather pay a bank overdraft fee
to know her entry check was received.­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

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