Fused Poem by Wojja Fink

My heart is heavy from following to many good poets
My limbs weary, my mind a melting pot of dictionaries
Words drip down my shirt
I have not the ingenuity to catch them
I cannot write like him like her
I’m wasted on your praise
The birds don’t come near
The clouds scurry away and rain elsewhere
The tulips are listening to some other poet
The Eastern light has gone from the sunset
Elegies don’t know my name
Metaphor has run off with the milkman
And similes have left me as daft as a brush
I can’t even think about thinking
My brain awash with
Tax returns
Lord please give me strength to do them
Before my wife strangles it out of me
And leaves me lifeless
Like the dummy
She uses for making clothes.