I forgot already
the poem I wanted to write.
The idea
the inspiration
the foundation that I hoped would carry me through
one hundred words
has faded
and I can’t
for the life of the poem
recall what I had in mind.

They say
(and by “they,” I think I mean
the Military Creative Establishment)
that if you don’t remember something,
“It probably wasn’t that important anyway,”
and then laugh
their stupid self-satisfied Military Creative laugh
– I think.

And while I can’t prove then wrong
since – duh –
I can’t recollect the greatness of the lost,
I sense that something important
has been stolen
and I’ll not be content
until it returns.

I hope it does
while I still remember
that I used to be able to write.