I write my final ode and word
My pen sits on my desk
Sitting back into my chair, I nod,
“tis done, this task, my ‘script.”
Without a doubt I search the net
until I find the one
The agent who I do believe
will love my work like me.
I prep the file and google search
Until my eyes grow dim. Once I am sure
I’ve done my best
“That’s it” and I click send
Now I sit and wait and write.
Soon I have a “yes,
please send on this manuscript”
I squeal and click resend”
Now the waiting game it starts, he’ll love this book I’m sure
Like none before, he’ll love Kallan.
But silence fills my heart.
I wring my hands. I watch the clock
then curse and slam my desk
“Its only been a single hour!
He’ll need more time than that.”
The next few days, they pass with sweat
(I’ll need more antiperspirant)
“I turn my crazed thoughts out instead
to fans, the web, and Twitter!
I’ll make a hoot, I’ll draw them near!
They’ll love me, that I’m sure,
For I have a wit…a twisted sense!
I excel at idle charm.
I make a hit and meekly message
the New York City agent
“This is my plan and my goal, you know…
Just wanted you to know.”
His answers swift, “That is fantastic!”
By the way,” (my heart it skips a beat)
“Dolor and Shadow is very,”
“much under consideration”
I squeal and jump, I dance and twirl.
But what does that mean!?
“An exclamation point!” I cry!
That’s great news, I am sure.
But time it stretches on and on.
My inbox stays mercilessly calm
As days mold into weeks.
Surely it can’t take three weeks
to love my book? Where is he?
I stare and study and memorize
those few snippets of words
“very much under consideration”
Then why has it been so long?
The days droll on, my heart sinks low.
My gut twists like a snake.
The coffee cups pile up upon my desk.
I really should clean up.
Black eyes sunken in, peer up
My greasy hair sticks to my chair
“Just love my book,”
I croak aloud to my dell monitor.
And so I sit and wait and lurk
Each day my hope, it shrivels
I roll my pen and, just once more,
I pour my heart upon my paper.