(untitled)

(untitled)

Ev’ry poet, given long enough,
Will name a poem this –
Some to relish the Schrödinger’s title,
Or one as subtle as a hiss,
Others who simply forget to attach one,
Or choose to leave it still undone,
But ev’ry poet will try this bluff
In the final analysis.
Perhaps it’s there, but printed in white ?
Perhaps they couldn’t think what to write ?
Perhaps the only copy to spare
Has suffered a tear, or a bookworm’s blight ?
Or scratched into a wall, in rough,
In some forsaken abyss.
But now they sit unheralded upon the bustling page,
With nothing to grab our eyeballs and engage –
We’re on our own.
They’re standing naked on the stage,
Relying on their lines alone –
Straight to business, no quick kiss
To say hello and set the tone.
Yet ev’ry poet, given long enough,
Will give a name a miss.