ELISA GABBERT

BLOGPOEM THE SECOND

How can you google me if you don’t know me
yet? I’m not the typo of anyone else’s name
and maybe there already is a “backwards poet.”
A coccyx poet, poet of the fractal on a Post-It.
The poet of “chaise longue” not “chaise lounge.”
In a frontispiece skirt, the poet nostalgic
for advent-calendar chocolates. But is it possible
that someone besides me was complimented
three times on Saturday night for her haircut,
not having gotten a haircut? Never mind:
a better game is to try to think of something
that’s not possible. But before we start playing
let me establish that I believe anything is possible.