Behind closed doors

March 24 2017

A political win today. And I finished my taxes. Finally.

On my run today some things flew through my head, but clearly they didn’t root, so here’s a prompt (from this page again): “Write a poem that has the word “love” hidden in it somewhere. You cannot use the word “love” by itself, it must be hidden (such as in the word “glove” or in two words like “halo venom”).”

Behind closed doors

You probably think this poem is about you. But there’s no room
here for your gray architecture and buttoned-up diction.
Here the tomatillo verde and jalapeño splash into salsa.

Don’t bother to scour inside its closets
or cash registers. Your willful, overdrawn checks
have left the wells dry. The backyard blooms jacaranda, just for me.


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