By Thomas Page

I am student teaching a senior level class in Washington, DC. They have to write some poems on these prompts. I decided to try all 30 of them. However, I will not say what the prompt was but what it number was.

Prompt #13

I am surrounded by things beginning with you

When I scrambled to find a subject

Like the bucolic poet stationed in the city

Dreaming of fireflies hovering above harvested corn

A poet without a cause

Like a song written in the key of b

Grasping at straws as he flips through books

Looking for inspired allusions

Poetic theft of the commonest form

As those echoed four chords on the radio.

The sound,

Voiced bilabial stop,

Mewling like the babbles of a baby

Surrounding the five finger exercises

That are off-center

Producing a different timbre

That evoke memories of better vistas

Casting a different sunset

Over the same ocean disappearing into the pupil.

What are these rambles

Crowded like bulls in the pen

Meant to be?

Some chaos in the key of b?

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