After I got an email from Alana this morning, I realized that I sent everyone over to play at One Single Impression without planning to participate myself. Which, in hindsight, didn’t seem fair. So here’s my fifteen-minute poem based on Alana’s “What’s It Like?” prompt.
It’s been a long time since I’ve done this kind of thing — take a prompt, take a set period of time, and come up with a poem. I might have to start doing it more often. It’s incredibly fulfilling, and it’s a great way to get drafts finished that you can go back and rework later.
Kiss kiss bang bang, s.
In Retrospect, I Should Have Kept the Coat of Arms
For three whole days, the house was a battlepit—
dead coats filled every corner, complaining of fits.
Greasy fingers in mismatched glass and the cups swooned,
proclaimed their lives worth more than twenty cents
and an egg beater. Maimed books stretched on
wooden cots, each cracked spine a sharp retort.
For a dollar, I’d give you the bra off my back—
it never fit right anyway. Here, take a bedroom shoe
size seven, a heel that’ll give you an ass like an apple,
round, red, a portable dictionary of sin, like this desk
here, typewriter buried in its bowels. You know they
used to carry this, two boys, into the battle field
in case the higher-ups wanted to type a letter?
Dear Wife. Dear Wife. Dear Wife. Dear Boy.
If it seems over-priced, just think
What I paid to get it here.
I’ve got a suitcase and a gun. No bullets.
There are other ways to break a truce.