I have lost all vocabulary.
I arrive upon a cartoon bugler’s herald
to a scene where with jesters hat jingling
my words seem mocking; they serve no purpose.
Emotional gravitas is thrown on a paperpile marked “for later.”
Then it is hidden, and later unbidden, in my
mind’s library where other books are flipped open erased and
I am left with a pen without ink.
(Yes, I wrote this. ‘Tis a work in progress)