Today's poem is by Rebecca Hoogs
I feel like a Rebecca-
like shape, like the real one
has cast me off, spurt me out
and left me to face her predators,
like the real me is off
enjoying her airpocketless body,
while I stay behind going blotto,
a so-so blurb on the back of a book,
a blurry word. My beak keens
for something to say, but I'm a bubble
that's lost its thought, an ink-tank
without a think. O morph, o nym,
I know I'm just your pseudo,
your thin skin, but please
return my heart and other vitals.
It's thankless, this being like,
a being not quite right.
Copyright © 2012 Rebecca Hoogs All rights reserved
from Smartish Pace
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
Support Verse Daily!
Home Web Weekly Features Archives About Verse Daily FAQs Submit to Verse Daily
Copyright © 2002-2012 Verse Daily All Rights Reserved