Memo From the Inner Office (Poetry)

This is a note that needs to be
put on file — somewhere —
here’s as good a place as any
although few will see it or take the point —
administration of a mental sort goes on
behind closed doors.

I do not publish everything I think
or write down every word
that comes to me
the inner wall is crammed with
my graffiti —
there sometimes isn’t room for more
unless I make some space —
wipe out a section — censor — cut
away the edge of truth — leave
emotion ragged raw.

There is not enough paper in the world
for all that needs to be written
and explained
this message is a codicil of sorts —
a parting stab
scribbled as a short despairing afterthought —
nothing is ever finished.