Day 1: New Writer Response Prompt

Rondo
by Janet Holmes 

The noun one keeps batting away
refuses declension. 

He says, I don’t want to be
twenty-four again.
Twenty-four was a handful: 

the flawless
meatflesh, best self, miraculous
leap/thump on the hardwood,
the twist and splash. 

The exuberance
in the present tense, 

the timebound blood pump
two throbbing lungs butt
in their bone cage 

surges to bursting.
He does not perdure 

in this internal defection:
so rare, and so heroic.

Ritornello

To this you must admit
Her skin was a coat of glitter
amber-lit.

She whispered the wind in code-
her sharp canines could not remit
a simple slither
at the funeral home visitation..

Day 1: Old Writer Response Prompt

Emily Dickinson 

Her breast is fit for pearls,
But I was not a `Diver' -
Her brow is fit for thrones
But I have not a crest.
Her heart is fit for home -
I - a Sparrow - build there
Sweet twigs and twine
My perennial nest.

The Flight of Emilie

My sparrow is, at once, here
she is in the night of time
and paces the door frame-
She ruffles against grain,
but she isn’t trapped by stars-
There is a moment before flight
and she, with again human
hands, presses against me
and mutes my breath.