Friday, January 15, 2016

Could Be Cancer

If I die tomorrow
that all my passwords are variations
of my cat's nickname
and that
I was the one who spilled the milk
under the refrigerator


In 2015 I wrote nothing.
Do I have to tell you why?
Isn’t this my poem?

Do I have to say
why my tongue stays in its cage?
or when it escapes, hungry, again?

I will write or I won’t;
I’m not a bill in your wallet
or a voice in your head.