Here we are again, on the doorstep of the cruelest month, a month of poetry, a month of humor, a month of stress awareness, and most likely a multitude of other designations. Once more I will attempt to juggle all these things, making sense or making nonsense, what matters is continuing the tradition. Fasten your seatbelts.
no more morning star
to wink over the road
illuminating a ground hog -
a ground hog, poor thing,
motionless on the shoulder,
cars hustling past, paying no mind
it is just a lifeless crushed up box.
a streamer of black plastic garbage bag
water bottle, dirty diaper,
blanketed horses staring blankly
a pun to amuse the driver
who has no idea
a dead skunk in the parking lot
the stench of symbolic retribution.
©2022 Noreen Braman
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