by Steven J. Serafiani
you and your cork board dreams that arouse
the foremost tenured professor. can’t tell if you
are being coy or just maligned in atrophy.
the campus gave you secrets to surmise in
dorm room glory. the library held the books
you once held in idle youth sacrament.
what would Abernathy say to you now that
you are a washed up lounge singer? will he
give an edict taunting your decomp?
I’ve never been to a funeral parlor with such
wonderful décor. aesthetically pleasing
is it not Monaco princess pout?
you screamed for him to never leave the
comfort of palace heart. but he left old
one and is now in the comfort of young caroline vitae.