second millennial poem

if there were only one poem
this deep in the new millennial turf
I would not forgive myself
and worse than that
the guilt of frozen ambitions
that stealthed across from
the nineteen hundreds
oozing into my pen to solidify
the meekest flow of ink
would never let me sleep
even with a glass of Shiraz
sipped by candlelight
so here I go
breathing muckled metaphor
across the cyber chasms of mail
hoping one lonely flyer
will find a steady perch
and for a brief knowing moment
give my second millennial poem
a second look

                © Chuck Beals  January 2000