The Singing Jar of Nuts

There soon will come a point of no return

for this defective canister of nuts.

My options will be eat the loss or burn

the grocer’s house—and I don’t have the guts.

There’s nothing to convince me that the voice

that sings inside the nut jar is my own.

The songs make too much sense! I’ve made my choice.

If filberts cannot sing, I’ll be alone

til someone else decides to eat the things,

for, now, I cannot eat, I cannot sleep,

I cannot answer when the nut jar rings.

She’s trying now to call me, and I weep.

I would not recognize—I can’t pretend—

the voice that’d tremble at the other end.