After Too Much Indexing 🤯

*****

Indexing is the devil’s very work
Of all I do, the one most wish to shirk
In corners of my conscience doth it lurk
With a most snide and most complacent smirk

Have I just now a lovely sonnet writ?
I may take no satisfaction from it
Not even as much as a moment’s bit
Before my indexing gets in a snit

Endlessly complaining of neglect
Pointing out each tiny self-defect
I cannot seem my poor self to protect
From its demands that I forthwith perfect

Each entry, be it so minute and minor
Most would be hard put even to define ‘er
Such abject stress put upon its designer
Endlessly to re- and re-refine ‘er (!!)

I know that now you’ve read these lines you see
Yes, see, and pretty much effortlessly
What a disaster, post-labor’ially
(After too much indexing) these brains be…

*****

The poet/editor of this website is physically disabled, and lives at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level. Contributions may be made at:

https://www.gofundme.com/are-you-a-patron-of-the-arts

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s