. Poem by Nicco Muegge

Robert Frost is watching me
from the other side of the room,
i nervously glance over -
the look in his eyes speaks gloom.

The room is filled with men
who claim themselves to understand thought,
and don't believe in love -
the look in his eyes speaks distraught.

With pulsing veins and black tongues
they yell loud enough, all sounding same,
stabbing with their words -
the look in his eyes speaks pain.

The look in his eyes speaks regret
a look he could not try to fake out,
as slight hope lights his skin -
he begins to mouth something i cannot make out.