Author Joseph Heywood
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Lost Poem
[Deer Park, Mi, August 19, 2013]

I called it Nocturne, carved away on it
Two or three days before customary shelving,
Like drying fish in the sun, letting chemistry
Percolate its magic in my brainpan, time away
To brew and stew unseen, to resurrect later
For hard-hearted revisions, drafts made by the heart,
Final poems by the brain and sharp blue pencil,
This time the rough’s gone walkabout, leaving
Nary a clue to whereabouts, Ultima Thule
On a tramp steamer loaded with other half-drafts,
Wordy drifters, all fellow pax lacking futures,
Stillborn masterpieces dead before arrival
Buried in earth before birth, gone forever,
The wife asks, “Did you check the trash-bag before
You heaved it, cursing, into the summer dumpster?”


 
 
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