Wretched Man that I Am
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
A stain that won’t come out is on my jeans,
My Levi’s 501s. It’s on the thigh,
So sexy’s what it ought to be. It means
A different thing: the stain is more like my
Condition. There are things I can’t command
And remedies don’t work. The web assured
Me any solvent, never mind what brand,
Will clean the spot. I took it at its word,
Repeated all the steps, again, again,
Again. The blemish still remains. If that
Blot grew within the thigh, think of the pain
In trying its demise. An inner splat
Is far, far worse, like cureless cancer, deep
In blood or bone. The failure will be steep.
