The winter afternoon shadows fall
eerily this time of day
I muttered to myself
something dark and un-precocious
What then would there be
to write about?
I am not gifted with the art
of making others laugh-
neither with much of
an imagination
and I made myself laugh
and I took myself a concept:
No one was going to tell me
I shouldn’t stay such a tragedy
although I have been scared
once or twice that I am a talented poet
so what’s the difference?
I could have been
working on my process the whole time
instead of searching for the saddest word
to end a poem.

Predisposed.

-Jesse Haydn