Poetry Adjacent

For some reason, right now,
Every poem you compose
Doesn’t feel like a poem,

Feels like the middle of a poem
As pastry, a kind of treat or filling,
Or it feels less anxious, less

Like the effort at capture that it is
And more like the composition
Of an empty form for readers to fill.

Or they feel like stacked, cardboard boxes.
Or like leftovers of real poems. Whatever.
Well. Well, welcome to this one.