April is the cruelest month
that is why it was assigned
National Poetry Month.
It is that three feet of snowfall
the day after the ski resort closes.
It is a thousand worst-case scenarios
within earshot.
It is the month a ferry breaks down
in the middle of Puget Sound
adrift in the grayness of heavy fog
hoping a cargo ship won’t ram it.
The fog is heavy with rejections
from faraway poetry editors
with form-letters a thousand times replayed.
copyright © 2023 Kenneth P. Gurney
postscript
A graveyard is
1oz. (30ml) Vodka
1oz. (30ml) Rum
1oz. (30ml) Gin
1oz. (30ml) Tequila
1oz. (30ml) Triple Sec
1oz. (30ml) Whiskey
1oz. (30ml) Scotch
Lager Beer
Stout
served in a pint glass.
Umflop 