Becoming William

Having written a poem
I now realize
I am a genius.
So I take what I want
and need not ask forgiveness -
because I do these things for you,
dear reader.

I have stolen William's plums -
the ones he originally 
stole himself. 
I devoured them.
They were, indeed, delicious
so sweet and so cold.

But I need not ask forgiveness.
His plums nourished me
as my sweet lyrics now nourish you,
dear reader.

I watched another William 
as he plucked silver and golden apples
and when he bent over
to put them in his sack
I plucked him.

I plucked him good and hard
and for a long time.
Then I trampled his dappled grass.

But I need not ask forgiveness.
His apples sustained me
as these graceful notes now sustain you, 
dear reader.

I heard a third William
as he obsessed about his stewed prunes,
which had caused him to grow horns
where his rapidly receding hair had been.

I grabbed his wrinkled prunes
and squeezed the sour juice.
From that weak stream
I concocted a cocktail,
which I drink to his health 
even as he steams in the stew.

But I need not ask forgiveness.
His prunes seduced me, 
as these charming melodies now seduce you,
dear reader.

I shall now write my second poem.
It will be a sonnet.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief