It’s not a goal, I suppose,

more like a corner or a throw-in,

but I wish I could be

in somebody else’s poem.

It would be fame, of a sort,

though not the kind that should be sought;

it ought to happen by chance

and be in another’s hand…

 

...unless it could be planned!

 

Can it be so hard

to locate a versifier?

An unsuspecting bard,

the type who won’t enquire

into my raison d’etre

and ultimate designs.

I only want to get her

to let me in her lines.

 

Yes, I’d prefer a she,

I mean a poetess;

say, Carol Ann Duffy,

a name that will impress

when I drop it casually in company:

You know that kid who killed the goldfish?

That was me.