king cake stressed fassion

this morning, walking down the hall
of this dilapidated university

the toes of my shoes wet from slush
with my coat swung upon

a vision of academia, two magazines
littered to the brim with day dreams

fantasy low-residency MFA programs
daring to hang from the fingers of one hand

and in the other, a cup of earl gray
too hot to drink, or to hold tight

anxiety ridden over words i care not to write
but more for the words i need to write

the ones that no one pays much attention to,
but to call myself a poet...