‘To Whom It May Concern’ and Other Poetry by Geoffrey Smagacz

To Whom It May Concern

Who writes letters anymore, and in verse?
I don’t care whether you like it or not.
I suppose I could have phoned you, or worse—
dropped in. I’d be putting you on the spot.
You’re just like everyone else nowadays,
no face to face, no reading of expressions,
no confrontations, no awkward displays
of emotion, and no undue aggressions;
tiptoeing around everything that matters.
Can’t say this and not that, it might offend.
I’m only allowed to say that which flatters,
not compare you to a donkey’s ass end.
Precious snowflake, before this poem is sent
(and I write this most sincerely), get bent.

On Today’s Solitude

I used to think that I’m the one who chose
the four sturdy, cement block, soundproof walls
with windows, doors that only I could close,
that hide my journals filled with scribbled scrawls;
that I put myself here by my own will,
that I wanted not much more than to think
on life’s vicissitudes, the daffodil
or if my printer might not need more ink.
What a foolish ass I’ve been. How profoundly
I have deceived myself with twisted thinking.
Others have made the bricks that now surround me,
gave them to me freely. What a hoodwinking!
“Thank you,” I’d said. “Thanks for all your help.
Now leave me alone.” That was my last yelp.

Geoffrey Smagacz writes from North Carolina and Mexico. A collection of his fiction, published under the title of A Waste of Shame and Other Sad Tales of the Appalachian Foothills (Wiseblood Books, 2013), won the 2014 Independent Publisher gold medal for Best Mid-Atlantic Regional Fiction. His rhymed and metered poetry has also been published in various literary magazines and e-zines, including 14 by 14 and Dappled Things.