what if I disappoint you
like, if
this poem takes up more
than a single page.
if the lines they build to contain me
don’t work
and I spill over onto the
next page and you have to
turn it over
and maybe over again
and now
are we even talking about a poem?
Admit it.
You are already getting tired.
Or maybe - just maybe
this is the first good thing
that’s happened to you today.
maybe it’s the last.
maybe now is where i wander and to
fill the space I start
asking for forgiveness
over and over
and over again. Forgive me.
I’m spilling over and
you’re turning
a page.
Forgive me.