The Last Poem is a Bitch

The last poem arrives with a
Primordial belch
Exhausted on arrival
Falling to the ground
Wheezes at the finish line
Pulls a deep breath through a straw
Raises its hands in triumph 
Basks in absent anticipated glory

The last poem evaporates home
Sits at the table alone
Sucks down a power drink 
Wonders if it was worth it
If it ever was
If even looking back at the firing squad
Makes a difference

The last poem
Swallows the year and three Advil
Wondering what its 364 siblings are doing
Decides it doesn't matter
Fixes a drink
Something tasty on ice
Now appreciates the fuss

The last poem is a bitch
Absent of defense, pretense 
Grows old with the spider
Hatches another plot
Waits for discovery
If only, the poem thinks
If only for righteousness 
If only for love

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