Poet as Procrastinator
I’ve always imagined the Rubicon being as deep as Everest is high,
so unlike Caesar I never crossed it.
Like Cortes I’d burn all my big ships,
but unlike him I’d leave one rowboat rigged with sail.
Unlike Hamlet I’d ruminate on to thrust or not to thrust,
even after the avenging Laertes scored his palpable hit.
If my ship ever came in I’d see Titanic painted on its hull.
The other eleven jurors would twiddle their thumbs
while I’d vote guilty, no, wait not guilty! at least twelve times.
The three curtains hiding the pot of gold, the Rolls Royce, and the can of tuna
would crumble with age before I’d make my quiz-show choice.
I, a poet, strike when the iron cools to lukewarm.
I’m the versifier of every if, and, or but−−
but I can never be accused of being anti-climactic,
for I never reach a climax.
I'm the words on the package cradling the action figure within.
If you want Superman you'll have to tear apart these words.
Richard Fein was a finalist in the 2004 Center for Book Arts Chapbook Competition and has a chapbook published by Parallel Press, University of Wisconsin. He has been published in many Web and print journals and is also interested in digital photography.
