To My Agent On Her Birthday

Once upon a mid-day dreary, While I drafted, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious never-printed tome

While I despaired, sorrow bringing, suddenly there came a ringing

Of some joker now a-calling, calling by my chamber phone.

“Tis telemarketers,” I muttered, “being obnoxious at my phone.

Never leaving me alone.”

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak November,

And each separate query dying wrought its pain a little more.

Eagerly I wished for glory, though the stats were getting gory,

no one wanted my poor stories, stories that I longed to tell.

Stories I would never tell, unpublished for evermore.

Deep into that abyss peering, moving on my soul was fearing,

Doubting, hating that my dreams were simply dreams and nothing more.

But through the silence still that ringing, telephone its siren singing,

No more hope the sound was bringing, just a survey that would bore.

Telemarketers and nothing more.

So I answered, nothing hoping, with failure I now was coping,

“Stranger!” thought I, “Do your worst! I’ve no money, I’m accursed.

You can ask and ask and ask; I’ve no money, I will burst.”

But ‘though madness I was living, a good impression I’d be giving,

So I answered, answered in my nicest voice, “Hello?”

Quoth my agent, “Hey Kiersten, it’s Michelle Wolfson.”

“Angel!” said I, “Miracle! Angel from the heav’ns above,

Well, New York, but angel still! My heart will burst with joy and love!

Tell this soul with grief so weighted, tell me now will I be sated?

Will my dreaming, dreaming, dreaming, turn now into something more?”

Quoth my agent, “Do you always answer the phone this way?”

“Silence!” said I, heartbeat racing, “Is this the end that I am facing?

Am I to work with you forever, work with you forevermore?

On this journey, long begun, that until now was no fun,

Will I have a genius partner, will you be my own, my one?”
Quoth my agent, “I’ll send you a copy of the contract.”

And my agent, never failing, still is working, still is selling

Selling selling selling all my pretty words around.

I can write now, never fearing, encouragement forever hearing,

Knowing she’s my agent still, and despair I never will.

Back to my work I am turning, all my soul within me burning,

Burning with the love I have for Agent Michelle like before.

The best agent, forevermore.