Poem: The Perfectionist

Okay. I would like to blame this poem on my friend Debbie (who has a cold and is a bad influence, apparently.) I hope that the cold leaves in disgrace soon, and I blame you for the fact that this poem attacked visited me during dessert when my pen had gone missing. This one is her fault for encouraging me.

(And now with bonus recording of the author reading the poem – here)

The Perfectionist (by me)

This man
Seeks the straight line
Crisp and distinct
No trailing edge or
Wavering indecision
Breathes hospital corners
Military order
Cat-less, unrumpled sheets
Even the End
Prepared for
Tidy, exact
Chaos spun into order


Good luck with that.

3 Responses to “Poem: The Perfectionist”

  1. Emma Says:

    I love the reading!

  2. Debbie Says:


    Love it. Happy to be blamed for it. :)

    And I’ve named your book of poetry…

    You Don’t Want to Read This Poem

    And, yes, it must be authored by Calliope.

  3. angel Says:

    Thanks, Ladies. :) And I think I agree with you on the title, Deb.

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