Three days of 30 days/30 poems

National Poetry Month is a challenge now that I committed to a poem-a-day. It's amazing how the day can be quickly frittered away without a poem. This entire exercise is making me more acutely aware of how I spend my time, and how much of my life has been focused on doing for others. I'm working on shifting that focus. I'm working on learning to put on my oxygen mask first. Old habits die hard, but I'm working on it, one poem at a time.

Below are days 10, 11, and 12. Day 10's prompt asked that we begin our poem with the next thing someone said to us or the next text we saw. Day 11's prompt started with writing words on a leaf. Day 12 had to do with writing about a moment after which nothing would ever be the same - but from a completely different perspective. Ten feet away, 1000 yards above. next door, and so on. . .

Day 10

"Official Party Business

Open Immediately"

meant something entirely different

when we were young

and making

love salad

and yelling "Tawanda"

into the night.

At twenty

I thought

facism

was

dead

Day 11

I've fallen

here down here down

Still green

I am supple still

Touch me

dying don't leave

leaf leave

Day 12

"Saturday Early Early"

He drank coffee

waiting

sat in the car

bucket seat

smoked cigarettes

and watched the Zaxby's Chicken parking lot.

The stoplight changed

47 times

green yellow red

green yellow red

green yellow red.

A tow truck passed with a broken down red Kia on the back

thumping and dragging metallic sound

chains and tires

fog and oil

early morning smell

of interstate and access road.

The phone rang

he bought her coffee

and the fluorescent tube

over the register

in the 7-11

flickered

like hope

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