Why wish to be discovered anyway?
Longing for praise from academic dolts,
I'm like a character in Beckett's play
Waiting to be redeemed. The task revolts
Me; could I just give up and grow content
With praising friends whose poems laugh at me
From pages of the journals I have sent
To twenty times? But each SASE
Among the ads and bills may hold a crumb
To slaver over, such as "Try again."
Oh yes, I beam, tomorrow He will come!
Then editors will say they knew me when
My work was interesting, but not yet great.
Perhaps I'll hang myself. Or else, just wait.
2000; originally printed in The Texas Review.
Reprinted by permission of the author.