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First Line: My nose is out of joint
Last Line: Anything they write.
Subject(s): Authors & Authorship; Poetry & Poets; Twins

My nose is out of joint
For my father-in-letters --
My father mind you --
Has been brought to bed of another poet,
And I am not nine months old.
It is twins this time
And they came into the world prodigiously united in wedlock.
(Don't try to visualize this.)
Already they have written their first poems in vers libre
And sold it within twenty-four hours.
My father-in-letters was the affluent American buyer --
There was no one to bid against him.
The merit of the poems is the new convention
That definitely locates an emotion in the belly,
Instead of scientifically in the viscera at large,
Or mid-Victorianly in the heart.
It voices a desire to grin
With the grin of a beast more scared than frightened For why?
Because it is a cinch that twins so well born will be able to sell almost
anything they write.

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