To Two Unnamed Editors
My son told me he loved me and hugged me for two minutes
In my former hallway.
My daughter cried as I was leaving and begged me
To take her with me.
The heat’s on. The bed’s warm.
The rent’s paid and Little Walter just followed
Fats Domino on the radio.
Valerie may call me later tonight
And we’ll see each other twice
In two weeks’ time.
So if my poetry seems melodramatic to you
And at odds with what you usually publish,
And the font I used offends you
Well,
Don’t give it another thought.
I’m fine.
*John Tustin graduated from nowhere, edits nothing, and has no awards. fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry is his link.
