Is That Fiction?

A loaf of bread?
She looked at him coldly.
It’s barely enough to feed–
she started, then stopped
thinking about the Bible,
that rebuke of small faith.

A largesse awaits surely.
She married him anyway.
Something egged her on but
did she refuse all deception?
All that slyness,
how do you feel now?

Years later she went to
a faith healer. But she’d
barely spoken to him.
There’s an impertinence in
questioning what happened.
Sometimes time will placate.


I’ve been making up these prompts, you know that. Often they come to me as I type out my thoughts. And sometimes do not have a clue what my thoughts are, until they’re set down. Aren’t thoughts amorphous and then through the magic of writing they take on a definite form? Aren’t poems also like that? And then what about received thought? You know, like what the Bible says. If you live your life by the book then wouldn’t your thoughts be shaped by the book. Yes? Yes. Then if you believe in another book, you have different thoughts. So which book do you live by? It matters terribly. As for me I live by the book of fiction. You know, fiction. You make things up but they’re as real as you think they are. Surely fiction has to seem real or it’ll blow its own cover. So what’s fiction and what’s real? For today, write a fictional poem.