More of My Old Poetry!

So, for those of you who are just starting to read these, I found a folder of poetry I wrote during my Creative Writing-Poetry class freshman year at Rutgers, four years ago. And I am sharing one a day. This one is fucking deep! And I specifically remember my teacher gasping out loud at the last sentence, the first time I read it to the class.

Note: "Your heart is made of burnt meatloaf" is the best sentence I've ever written.


The Gravy

Why is there gravy on the floor?
The table setting is wrong.
You didn't let the dog out. I told you
But you didn't.
The milk is spoiled.
The milk is spoiled. You didn't
Buy the right kind.
Why is there gravy on the floor?
You don't listen
To me when I talk.
Your heart is made of burnt meatloaf. I told you
All about that thing,
The one you were so angry about.
But you didn't listen.
Why is there gravy on the floor?
Why is there gravy on the floor?
You didn't do what I told you to do.
And why is there gravy on the floor.

I saw you with her.
I SAW you with her.

why is there gravy on the floor the table setting is wrong you didn't let the dog out I told you to but you didn't the milk is spoiled THE MILK IS SPOILED you didn't buy the right kind WhY is THERE GRAVY ON THE FLOOR YOU don't HAVE A HEART you don't listen to me when I talk I TOLD YOU ALL ABOUT THAT THING the one you were so angry about but you DIDN'T LISTEN why is there gravy on the floor WHY IS THERE GRAVY ON THE FLOOR you didn't do what I told you to do and why is there gravy ON THE FLOOR

My mom came to me yesterday and complained about the garbage never going out.
Fuck, I said. I'll take the garbage out.
But, then you have to divorce dad.