Poem written during NESCBWI 2014
In a Hotel
Normally I dislike public shaming
But I must protest you vigorously banging
At all of 3:30 AM.
The headboard knock-knocked me straight out of my REM.
I awoke with the suddenness of a loud slap,
Which is just what I heard when I was wrenched from my nap.
Perhaps I should thank you for waking me up,
Except you've made it clear you don't give a--
Luckily this gives me time to prepare,
For my agent critique: say, rip out my hair,
Or reread the schedule.
Though instead I count the times
That you say, "Oh my God!"
(I'm at eight or nine.)
This is what happens when you book a room,
Across the street from the Con, I presume.
You clearly have different priorities
Than chatting up agents and eating free cheese.
I know I should just go back to bed,
But I can't get this stupid poem out of my head.
Perhaps I should thank you for waking my muse,
But given your volume that's hardly news.
And I'd much prefer getting some more beauty sleep,
Than crafting an ode to your bleepity-bleep.
So next time you want to jump bones on the bed,
Might I suggest the floor instead?