Feral

I remember late in January this year making a conscious decision to take this blog, which had been all but scuttled, and make a conscious effort to become a real blogger. From the age of 14 until 40 I kept a paper and ink journal, but no longer. I look back on the enormous amount of content I've generated here and am very proud. Roughly 300,000 page views this year. That seems like a lot. One thing I am lamenting is the poetry itself has taken a backseat to trying to create something visual. I feel badly about bowing to the pressure to create something sexy at the expense of what was in my heart. So, I think for the remainder of December I'm going to do poetry here and at Zombie Logic Review. 

"Feral" by Jenny Mathews

Why You Are Not Here

I was saving

You for the encore

But the show

Was a flop.

I stopped to smell

The roses..

Often and with

Remarkable torpidity.

I barked up

A lot of wrong trees

And beat a lot

Of burning bushes.

I cast my seed

(Or your seed depending

On one's perspective

But not yours because

You don't exist)

In dirt and once

Or twice in sand.

I frittered away

Your genetic inheritance

On high-risk offerings

And low-yield bonds.

I'm sparing you 

Chicken pox, 

The death of 5-10 

Pets and the sharp 

Tooth of a child's 

Ingratitude. 

My work has come 

To nothing and thus 

You are nothing. 

All the good names 

Were taken. 

Did you really want 

To bear the ridicule 

Of being 

Wolfgang Bertram 

Van Munster Vaultonburg? 

Although I make 

A laudable martini 

My penis' bark 

Is worse than 

My semen's bite. 

Always I paused 

To carefully examine 

The map at the mall... 

You were never there. 

I took a vote... 

You came in second. 

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