Godspeed, Little Poem

my little poem
isn’t much to look at
but maybe something nice
will happen when
you read it

or if not
maybe the next person
will have better luck
with it

or maybe
in an effort to please
more people it will become
more expansive or even

or maybe
in a flash of dawning
insecurity, it will start coming on
too strong, overcompensating
for its imagined lack of

or maybe
with this creeping paranoia
it will start rambling incoherently
like it invariably does
when it gets

or maybe
it should just relax
and try not to worry, like the people
who never seem to worry are always
advising, like that’s so
easy to do

or maybe…
maybe it starts to see
its readers as the unreasonable ones
maybe they’re the ones who don’t get it
maybe they’re like powerful literati sneering
at the little poem that doesn’t seem to say much
intellectuals who over-think everything and
miss the shear beauty of its
simplicity and its

or, maybe it
should just quietly
see itself out, before it’s
too late, before it breaks an expensive
vase, or spills red wine on something white
absorbent, and valuable and completely
ruins what little remains
of its rapidly diminishing

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