All My Poems Are Sad
All my poems are sad.
Even the happy ones.
I should have written
a few happy happy poems.
But I didn’t. Just
all these sad little guys.
Slumped on couches,
staring into the middle distance.
Whatever that means.
Sometimes I try to give
one of my poems
a piece of yellow cake
with chocolate frosting,
which, coincidentally,
is also my favorite.
I give it to the poem
and he takes a bite
and makes a brave show
of smiling, but I know.
I know.
/ / /
7 September 2023
Charlottesville VA
This is poem 48 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day for the 50 days leading up to my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.
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