The clock says two.
So where are you?
Am I the protagonist?
Or antagonist?
I know you’ve worked on me
after your supposed degree.
You say you know what you’re doing.
So,
which point of view are you using?
You foreshadowed me
and left me
in the sea
with death imagery.
Forget your master’s degree
You’ve done a Hemingway
and forgot about me.
Well, fuck that.

Erm, never mind you.
I have been waiting a whole week
to meet my first love, Roger, and he’s not appeared.
I am in tears.

Pah! Pathetic!
I’ve killed someone. Poisoned
by hemlock
in the library with ladders
and am glad that
I will never be found out.

I am a version of Pantalaiman
and I’ve got no bloody Lyra to talk to.
I might as well read Sartre
and be done with it.

To hell with you all!
I’m already dead.
That’s a cert;
because she started writing in flaming medias res.
What a waste of my death.

I’m the magic realism protagonist.
The Merlinesque enchantress.
Who knows
that if she had of written my story
it would of gotten goddam published.