In print, alas, I misspelt “susurration.”
I used a double S, a single R–
or else the printer did. No exculpation
in that: that doesn’t get me very far
toward timely self-forgiveness. Oh, my star
is dismal — and foretells a dismal day!
I thought I proofread close — but no cigar.
Of carelessness I made a vast display.
Now I retreat in bottomless dismay.
Now I drown in acute embarrassment.
Perfection’s what I happened to betray.
Repentance can’t erase the dark event.
I know the direst levels of self-doubt,
and every inner whisper is a shout.