I woke up
Splattered all over the front page
Of the Washington post today.
The paparazzi posting pictures
Of the shoes I wore
The night before
I woke up
The story had changed
The front page is the last page
The headlines are blank
The date is right
But the comics are no joke
My blood is dripping
From the crease in the page
splattered all over your ankles
I washed out between the pages
Of somebody's post today...
Bob Jenkens
Autopsy of a poet blogspot.com/2018/07/autopsy-of-poet.html?m=1
