10 Poems in 20 Minutes (Day Thirty-Five)

Huh, day thirty-five. I should have done something for day thirty-three and a third like one third of the way to a hundred or something. Oh well, I’m sure I’ll think of something I should have said for day thirty-five tomorrow.

I Wrote 10 Poems in 20 Minutes
Day 35

Poem 1:
Dragged out keyboard
Tried to figure out twelve bar blues
Understand where to put my fingers
For each note and for how long
Aren’t you supposed to have to suffer
To play good blues?
I can seem to make my fingers work
Does that count?

Poem 2:
Made an appointment with the vet
To put her down
Set her on fire, post chemicals
Get the ashes in a little box
What if they miss part of someone else’s dog
We have Ashely+ in our box.
Oh, look at the carbon, and remember.

You know what he said
She was crying from the pain
He said, it’s ok,
It’ll all be over tomorrow.
We’re killing you pretty soon,
Don’t cry too hard.
He woke her up
She slept until he petted her.

Poem 3:
There was something I wanted to say
It was right there
What was I thinking right before I lost it.
This is why I need to live alone
I can keep my trains of thought
All for me, unspoiled

Poem 4:
I want to take my favorite sweater
To the store it came from
Who made this
I want to get shipping manifests
And lists of distributors
So I can go call up a factory in Thailand
Find the worker who got pennies
And say, you made my favorite sweater
Thank you

Poem 5:
Oh I should send a card
Shouldn’t I
To the woman who died
She taught me to sew
On an old singer
You had to push the pedal to move the needle
We made a pillow
I used purple string
Her last name sounded like canoe
She was patient with me
Nodded to me in church
Until she moved to the home

Poem 6:
But they don’t pay their workers
I whined explaining
We shouldn’t eat at that chain
They wont’ tell you what’s in that meat
No one cares
Everyone eats there
You’re just weird

Poem 7:
Gym teacher held some sort of clamp
Looked like a caliper for drawing
She pinched my calf
Testing for fat
Told me a number with a .5 at the end
Next, hollered
Had to write that down
So I could put it on a form
Got turned in for a grade

Poem 8:
I bumped his hand on purpose
Covered in red clay dust
Hoping there’d be some spark
Or heat or a shock
I noticed the touch
But it was just a hand
He didn’t take me to prom

Poem 9:
Tell me a story
My litmus test
If you can be trusted
A good person
You can tell me a story

Poem 10:
A basket sits on my dresser
Impossible wrong size
Nothing fits right
Either too empty or too full
Somehow always a paper sticking out by one of the handles
A light woven color full of promising splinters
I could make some grand statement
About how it’s like my heart
Never quite full enough or content
Always angry at what’s inside
Looking unattractive
But today, it’s a basket
That sits on my dresser
And holds my stuff


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