I regret to inform you that

The poem you were expecting

Is no longer on its way

It will not arrive

And it is not available for comment

 

Unfortunately, now more than ever.

In these unprecedented times

As our world is growing and changing, and

The political climate

Of the state of the world has

Been baked at 420 degrees

I must raise my voice to inform you

That this poem,

The poem you are waiting for…

Is not coming

Due to the fact that I cannot write.

 

I, reader, have spent all day in my underwear

In bed

Crying about the fact that rent is due

And all I have done for work this month

Is eat my weight in dairy-free ice cream so violently

That I did not have time

To allow myself to place my frozen fingers

Onto a keyboard

To write a poem

More specifically,

The poem you’ve been waiting for

 

Public,

I simply cannot provide you with a better explanation than this:

As I logged on to my computer

To open the webpage

That housed the folder

That held the document

From whence this poem

(the poem you are waiting for)

Would and should have come…

My finger slipped on the trackpad and,

I regret to inform you, opened Netflix

And began playing the tv show

That I am now 4 seasons into

And I just can’t bear to leave the protagonist at such a fragile time in their life as this.

 

My loyal fans (family),

As I approached the keys of my computer, with my hands

(Which, as I previously mentioned, were frozen)

I began to take stock of the clothes on the floor

And the dishes unwashed

And papers un-filed

And the bathroom un-tiled

 

I realized that one of my nails had been chipped

From when I was thrashing about my home, screaming

And I forgot that I had planned to paint them, so now

Because I am here with wet nails

The poem

(that you have been waiting for)

Simply cannot arrive.

I appreciate your patience at this time.