Dull As Crows

She’s into fossils, evidence on
grayness, brushwork, needles,
shell remains, inscriptions,
a fringe of history,
atoms of prophecy.

Dull as crows, Adrienne said.

She walked into the crisp air,
drew her cardigan close,
sniffed the magnolias,
heard the sound of spring.
Ah nothing changes,
and everything does.


Day 6 now. And I’m almost losing count.
Robert Brewer wants us to write about sound. What sounds do you hear? I can hear children. Birdsong. Water in a small fountain. Life is filled with sound isn’t it? Then those familiar sounds when people you know speak. It’s all too familiar. What a poem does…is to defamiliarize by framing it, giving it a kind of structure. Life isn’t like that. It is fluid. Freeze frame life? Yup. Do it.

In case you didn’t realize, my prompt is just so you can submit your poem to Red Wolf Poems, and submission there is the same as submission to Red Wolf Journal. Not confused? Good.


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