Ennui

By Allison Toomer

I am unsure of what to write, No pain stabs through me

Like a blade, a sword, a pike, Nothing is a quiet, falling tree

There are no strings of words That are strung up like laundry

In the wind with the songbirds

Singing about a quandary

There are all scattered rhymes, Thoughts that grow like wild peas, Easy to catch the wind like a kite And busier than a honey bee

Were pain a ravenous wild herd, I would welcome it without warning, But it is a clever, quick hummingbird And I need something daunting

And while I browse my thesaurus, For words that describe my boredom

In this drawn-up lyrical chorus, Allow me to end here.––