Oh Devils!
Here we go...
Necessary.
Overlooked,
Used up and discarded.
It waits in the corners
of bookstores and minds,
a quiet utility,
ready for the mess of living.
It hurries on backs
of airport toilets,
while unfaithful fathers
fumble and fuck it up.
People forget about it
until they need it.
A spill, a stain,
a thought too heavy
to hold in.
They'll reach for it in crisis,
tear off what they need,
crumple it in their hands,
press it to their grief,
and let it go.
Still, poetry remains,
soft and strong,
hanging in the background,
waiting for the next time
someone remembers
why it was there all along.