Too Much Month

 

Got paid today, got me a pocket

full of change. Ding dong, dang doorbell

rings. Landlord’s got his hand held

out. Crank my truck, tank’s on

E. Gut growls, FEED ME

SEYMOUR! No more

money, still

too much

month.

 

 

(A nonet is composed of nine lines, beginning with nine syllables in line one, eight syllables in line two, and so forth, until the final line is only one syllable, giving off the visual appearance that the poem is slowly disappearing.)