This poem has a hole in it

There's something I can't see...

Photo by Ashley West Edwards on Unsplash

Publisher’s Note: Today’s piece is a guest post from

Jodie Meyn

who writes You are Here , the life and letters of a Midwest Housewife.

This poem has a hole in it
There’s something I can’t see
The conceit is convoluted
The enjambment is just 
Empty 
is the fishbowl 
We never did fill up 
We never got a goldfish, 
We only got a 
Puppy’s 
on the back porch
Kitty’s on the chair
If you haven’t got catharsis
No poetry is 
there 
are no more answers -
I was always told there were.  
We try to make connections 
But find we all must 
hurry 
Up please tell me 
I know which way it leans
I’ve lost all rhyme or reason 
To the thing I thought 
it means
I’ll never get it if I don’t 
Have all the dice. 
I’m only just one person and 
A footnote would be 
nice
To know you’re leaving 
This poetic vacancy
It’s leaking out hyperbole 
This hole I cannot 
see
Me really trying 
to fix the Beatles’ roof
A poem’s just a poem 
And the words are your own 
proof
Of your existence and 
the plot that you were here
I couldn’t make this bullshit up
Without a few more 
Beers 
are really good for you
Unless of course they’re not 
But I will toast to you and hope
You never will be 
caught
In your contraptions 
Of metaphor or rhyme, 
There’s a hole in this here poem
That will only heal with time. 

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