Saturday, April 25, 2009

the poem, people

amateur night 

frightened of the revelers I

stay indoors, listen to the bullets,

wondering where they will come

down. every day is another day

closer to whatever it is I will

face, there in no one to kiss

anyway, not at midnight, not any

other hour of the day. I unplug

the phone, wish the 

well-wishers wouldn’t.


For today's prompt, I want you to pick an event; make that event the title of your poem; and then write a poem. Think birthday. Think holiday. Think whatever.


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