Poet Laundry: By the Numbers

Showing posts with label By the Numbers. Show all posts

Saturday, April 19, 2025

There I was in black velvet,

stitched with fluorescent thread—

a trellis for thirteen roses,

dying but not dead.

Just a sprite under your blacklight,

learning moonlight is a lie—

escaping from your elf-owl-moonhowl

gaze of promise pantomimed.

Day 19 of National Poetry Month

Elf owls are nocturnal predators and are the world’s smallest raptor. Males make a yapping noise like a puppy to attract a mate.

A dozen plump oranges were hanging from the tree.

A dozen plump spiders had encircled each one

with a dozen white webs.

Kitty tried to bat one away

but it just crawled toward the couch

and back again.

You sprayed them with water

but the fruit couldn’t be saved.

Except by me waking up.

Which I did,

and killed them

the only way I know how.