There is something which writers are guilty,
When educated in literature.
It is a vanity they cannot help,
Poets, Hacks, Wretches, all suffer alike.
They are all trying to hide other works –
Inside our own, love letters in letters
Easter eggs of literature waiting
To be found by readers with a sly wink.
I’m not exempt from this age-old hubris,
I do this too, nudging myself along,
with waves and nods, I’m sure will all be loved.
But remember dear writers, when we think
This is such a wonderful thing to do
There is no annotated Catch-22.