The poem I didn't write

My poem yesterday

I could see, but it had no words.

It was a mass of tangled threads

looped edges sticking out

on the sides, bright magenta

against midnight blue

 that only showed up a little

as warp might

In between the weft

and it vibrated janglingly

as if under strobe light.

So I didn’t write it.

I went to bed, though that added

to my sense of defeat

Its words were: you have no ideas

no ideas in words 

for a poem.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 7, 2011