Three American Sentences
aged, with just a hint of a fizz. she was a sleeping volcano.
like bone-weary; like an old volcano that only kept a wee fizz.
I always liked Sylvia Plath; she knew her way around blackberries.
In the Style of Mary Oliver’s “Every Morning”
Here I am scratching words
on a post-it note with
a near-drought-dry pen that
I pocketed last year from
a hotel in Cornwall, and
a doctor on TV is saying,
“We don’t need any damned tests –
I can tell by the way a person breathes,”
and this chronic media drip
of illness and explanation is
becoming white noise. I turn off
the TV, and go outside into
a shower of yellow drizzle pollen.
Day 14 NaPoWriMo Poets that
Inspired Your Writing
©️ Misky 2020 It’s Poem a Day month. These are all 1st drafts.