i’m in the paper
a poet in the news
for once being feted and not abused
i smile at the buzz that surrounds me
i am amused
i am bemused.
i’ve enjoyed my time in the sun
this was easy
compared to the battles i’ve won
everyone seems happy
well i hope they are
and ever if they weren’t
i’m the happiest by far.
but right now two loads of laundry await
ready to greet their washing machine fate
and there are vessels that need putting away
and a home crying out for some attention.
so i remove my poet garb
lay down my wand, my trusted old pen
unpin the celebrated cape from me
and sit calmly count to ten.
ever if it’s only toast
my crown can wait
it’ll be tarnished at the most
the paper’s folded away
in a corner of my memory
and there are things to be done
as far as the eyes can see.
even poets lead mundane lives
they are hosts, they are wives
there are demands made on their time
and there are people waiting
but not in line.