The Star

Helen Frankenthaler is an evil eye

I put her behind me

And hoped for the best

Even she knew

I was lying

Lying is godlike

I’m almost always lying

In a poem

All these women and their sadness

We think of the other dimensions as vast

Is it possible that other dimensions

Are very small

And when everyone just keeps writing sonnets

Are sonnets just platforms for the emotion

And if so

What kind