Poem — Tim Upperton

The Bare Hook

Don’t ask what this is all about.
At the end of the row, you start over.
The way in is the way out.

From Toulouse, France, you wrote
what you say to hush each new lover:
Don’t ask what this is all about.

Joan Jett and the Blackhearts on high-rotate –
Bad Reputation, Crimson & Clover.
The way in is the way out.

The bare hook where you hung your coat
is a question mark. The answer’s never.
Don’t ask what this is all about.

You thought you knew, but you only thought.
It took years and a marriage to discover
the way in is the way out.

You read each clause, each tiny footnote.
Still you miss the contract’s waiver:
don’t ask what this is all about.
The way in is the way out.

 

 

Tim Upperton

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