poem index

poet

Cathy Colman

by this poet

poem
He left the room, assured of his immortality-- 
or was it just his cologne?
I once wanted his money--not really his money, 
but the freshly minted coins of reason.
His hands smelling like prime numbers. 
I once wanted his swagger, his fame 
but without the dental work. 
I'm reminded that my destiny was 
to stand