a poet paying taxes
it’s time to add up every pen and pencil
notebook business card visor
from the last year
what did I use to make what I made?
then I’ll pay my town their tiny portion
I don’t mind the tithe –
it’s the terrible reckoning,
weighing what little went in versus out,
reading the silent critical subtext
embedded in the unassailably impartial numbers;
it’s the unflattering appraisal
of the value of my time
here –
that’s what I’m avoiding tonight
wrapped in a wool blanket
with the laptop decidedly closed
maybe tomorrow I’ll have the strength
to add the columns up
or rather
subtract what it all cost me
