The Caesurian Section
The critic
wheels my poem
into surgery.
He packs the skull
with stately
stressing.
He pins a metrical
foot to its mouth.
He tapes an allusive
paradox to its groin.
My poem opens its
eyes and speaks:
Am I great yet?
196 Characters
Robert Goldstein 2015-2019
This is an entry for Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales #142 – 25 June 2019
