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Requiescat in Pace (RIP) I killed a poem yesterday-- ripped, mangled, hacked, whacked, an undeserving verse, vague, trite, artlessly contrived. I buried it in Rubbermaid and, following dinner, smothered it with bits of wild rice, a few chicken bones, some leftover gravy. I thought it finished, slain, composted. Yet, sometime during the night, it whispered to me, calling from decrepitude, demanding resurrection, begging excavation. I tunneled in that plastic tomb, but it was done for. A single line remained, haloed between burnt bread crusts. Yet, that pitiful remnant spoke its own requiem eloquently-- "I killed a poem," it read, "yesterday..." |
Additional Notes:
This is a revision of a poem I wrote last year called "I Killed A Poem." I thought it needed a bit more blood and guts...
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