It's Still Life

A (Prose) Poem Starting with a Line from Armageddon by T. Silverman

Every time I see you, I ask if Bruce Willis is dead. For months, the days repeated and the windows were blank with winter, and then it was April – an eclipse, red-tint full moon from Sahara dust, and a devil-horned asteroid, and then that fox staring at me through the kitchen window, not once but 3 times so far this month, and those 3 obsidian crows sitting on the fence, morning after morning, and your purple tulip that set 3 blossoms from a single bulb, sadly its petals now torn to scrap in the gales last week, and I don’t know what insinuations are in this, but Dad would know (if he was still alive). I dreamt that Dad was in my garden digging up old bones and skulls and my old running shoes, (he says they’re animal bones and I insist that they’re human) – and they keep coming out of the ground like too many vague adverbs in a sentence. And you can’t blame me for ducking these traceries of catastrophe, if one’s coming, like when I forgot to add eggs to the grocery list when I was meant to bake a cake that afternoon. And all this must be because Bruce Willis is dead.

Written for Miz Quickly’s Day 20. Write a poem starting with a line from a poem by …..

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