The Great Disappointment

I stumbled my way to a Great Disappointment
A journey half-drunk and the last of its kind
And given to me was a pen for my effort
So on dotted line, beneath “Great Disappointment”
I took up the pen and I signed

The finer print was full of my folly
A fen of my word in a font colored red
And my triumphs took little or no space at all
Just sins with odd names and never-mind lovers
In the ruby-red record that speaks for the dead

I recited my reasons to all who would listen
One shrunken old thief who could not meet my eyes
Who muttered to me “I don’t think you’re a failure
I have always been called a Great Disappointment
And I choose to remain so; to live in disguise.”

—Miguel Eichelberger

BIO: Miguel Eichelberger writes out of Vancouver, Canada, with his authoress wife. He is a traveler, highwayman, and untrained flautist. His poetry has appeared in literary magazines such as Vancouver Review, Existere, San Diego State University’s pacificREVIEW, Indiana University’s From The Well House, Joypuke, and many others. His first play, Cave, was shortlisted for the 2015 Vancouver Fringe New Play Prize.