I did write a stupid poem though. It's about a scene I've been thinking about for a while. Here's the second half, as I'm not quite done with the first:

...

lost and found.
But she will rot

down to hateful
bone and testimony

disassembled by tentative
strokes along the femur, skull

and she might say cannibal,

I'd kill you too if I could,

and she might say I would spit
death’s high road back in your face

she might say Here is someone
I thought that I knew,

but it is only spring,
that old traitor,

watered light, creeping

out among the pitch pines.