Tired of Yourself (poem)

Tired of Yourself

I think you get tired of yourself

If you don’t, start

The tea leaves haven’t got a plan to let you know

You know it’s nothing to a tea leaf

Patterning itself in broken flecks of hope

Likelier having a cosmic joke

Nothing to the flight of birds in autumn

Waxwings settling on your hawthorn

Dribbling seeded omens on your porch

Nothing if your sun sign has you stubborn

Overly inclined to think of others

You are

And your soul is bare

Easily divined

A dumb and lazy tendency to heed the heeler’s voice

That feels to you like so much on the plate

So little time

No one asks for fresh ideas

No one cares much for beliefs

Only you

Blinded by alluring lurid light

At the counter with the beater

Frothing eggs into meringue

And too busy, always busy

To stop your noise

Tired of Yourself

Uncollected Poems

(2018, Stephanie Foster)