Sunday, October 6, 2019

An Hour of Loud Silence

Poetry is more overbearing
in a coffee shop than music is,
because you have to be completely quiet.
Before long, you’re wearing
out your welcome. I’d be remiss
not to remind all you overbearing
poets that the pairing
of poetry with pasta can taste obnoxious
because the chewing must remain so quiet.
You’re on a champagne diet
but all the fizz
has gone out of your overbearing
bubbly. You start a riot
by asking if your shoes are hers or his.
Better be quiet—
trade your rants for pickled herring.
Your innuendos are stinking up the place. Let’s
face it, poetry is overbearing.
Only the fish are completely quiet.