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.