Two Unsuitable Poems


The title was Copacetic.
'To K.S.' below it.
Three hundred lines, and three made sense.
He was a poet’s poet.

The Unsneezed Sneeze

The unsneezed sneeze sneaks to a space
where the unsighed sigh and the unwished wish
wander uncertain, unknown, unplaced
beside still waters of unfished fish.

Such unthought thoughts! How unsnown snows
unnerve the nose. O truth untrue.
The unseized season eases—ceases—
O wish! O tish! At last! At choo!

Helena Nelson

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