I have waited all year long
to name this the penultimate day
of the year for who (not I) can
resist that marvelous word
given the chance to use it
since to be spoken written
down typed used in a phrase
is the be-all end-all of a word
itself otherwise lying flat
on some dictionary page, heart
thrumming in anticipation
someday to be thoughtfully
placed into a sentence not to mention
a poem! and murmuring with profound
incredulity Look! Oh my just look
where I am! and to know in its
bones it is absolutely the most perfect
word for that particular sentence.
Oh the pure joy!
But imagine if you will
the heartless glib erasing
the painful scratching through or
worst of injuries the absolute
cold horror of the delete key backing
over removing one letter at a time
leaving the tiny word pen and finally
nothing at all as some other
clearly inferior word is substituted
when everyone knows there is no
other single word that adequately
fills the shoes of penultimate.