Two Glazed Donuts under a Mackerel Sky

A poor breakfast and a book review

Of the collected works of someone

Or other you knew of but never

Particularly cared for, never

Got, as the well-worn idiom goes.

The reviewer’s moderately kind

And only a little bit snarky.

The review affirms the poet’s dread

Of a lack of response from the world.

You glance at the soft and papery

Crush of the clouds. Don’t live for response

From people but the lack from the world.