poem es fini

i thought that

maybe

i’d write a poem tonight
while listening to music

my window is open &
the temperature is slowly

falling

but as (per usual) the poem
i saw in my head has flown the
coop and gone south

i tried to chase it down
& make it submit to my

will

but a poem is like
a feral cat i

have to get used to that
& except it:

the poem
is lost to me