Predicament

Poetry gets out of hand

climbs the maple out back

chatters like a man

 

who knows jokes

or soon will freeze to death.

“He’s my friend” I say—

 

but perhaps I’m a fool—

poetry monkey

is not

 

in any way (productive)

gallops over branches

without reason

 

but as my wife would say:

“He has beautiful

eyelashes.”