Wednesday, August 26, 2009

week one

Write a poem in which...
  1. Someone drinks a bottle of wine alone
  2. Someone buys underwear
  3. Someone falls asleep at the airport
You can select one of the three prompts to write about or combine two or more of them in one poem.


  1. i fell in love with you
    in the duty free shop
    at Heathrow airport in April -

    you were buying wine
    and navy blue jockey underwear
    singing wildly to yourself
    some Manchester United football chants -

    i tried on sunglasses
    so you couldn't see me
    staring right at you -

    but i think you noticed.

    you offered me a drink from the bottle
    as i woke from a nap
    just in time to catch my flight -

    i would have emailed like you asked
    but i lost the recipe you gave me
    with your details written on it
    in crayon you borrowed
    off a small Asian child.

  2. mesh strings and satin bows entangle her yearning hands
    unfamiliar fabrics and shapes
    a green lace thong to match her eyes
    a shear black nightslip to go with his
    luxury in textiles

    Can I try these on?
    Yeah, go ahead...Ya gotta leave ya underwear on though.
    It's the law.

    Curves revealed and uplifted
    through satin
    yet white cotton peers and scolds
    reflection divulges the truth

    How are ya makin' out hun?
    They fit, huh? That green one...
    Oh! I bought that number last week..

    No, I'll just take this.

    Black leather couch
    mahogany bed
    midnight nightslip
    barbera poured

    White linens puddled on the floor
    Did you like my new outfit?
    I never saw it
    Was it green?

  3. *
    harrold in the walmart women’s underwear aisle

    a blue-smocked employee surveys him closely
    as he stands between the push-up bras and socks,
    perusing swatches of three-panty packs at one a.m.

    she pretends to straighten lingerie as she watches him
    dash towards the register with the same pink pair
    he’d seen stretched taught across his wife’s bottom —

    a soiled pair he’d delicately removed and discarded,
    then rushed out to replace, in fear she might wake
    from her mojito sleep to the shame of incontinence.


    Will this drown out the roar of those
    crates full of dull fruit taking off down
    drunken runways into the night?

    Will the curved earth look flatter from above
    and night open its velvets to enter her secrets

    however hidden they might be in the bottom dregs
    through which we drag ourselves to another

    port of entry in some faraway destination
    falling asleep in interim lounges and dreaming

    underwear alone on a rooftop having
    plunked down cash at the cash register

    for a bare
    covering of nakedness?

    One cup brimmed to the top won't suffice for it
    one lick of its steaming nectar

    one window overlooking the black airfield
    where souls take off and land asleep or

    awake through divine eyes
    drunk with tears

  5. this glass is broken, you'd say
    it's a family saying, meaning
    my drink is all gone
    I can't have had it all,
    it must be the glass' fault, and then
    we'd laugh and pour another

    tonight, as I sit with this bottle alone
    I think, "perhaps it is broken.
    it empties so fast, and then
    so does my glass. did I break them both
    when you broke my heart?"

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  7. wandering through
    the silk and satin
    these push up that
    those cling tightly to it
    they lift and firm
    what the hell size
    does she wear

    no one drinks wine alone
    why not
    it's my wine
    I can do as I please

    asleep on the floor
    don't care any more
    the dam plane
    is stuck

  8. on the second day after
    you were gone
    she popped open the bottle
    of red you bought specially
    for her visit.

    she didn’t, but felt like smiling
    thinking of you perusing
    the liquor store aisles intently
    and patiently for the right selection.

    the dark bottle sat lonely on the counter
    beside three half green bananas.
    and when she entered with your key
    after the white hospital lights, after
    the stainless steel morgue, after
    the blurry thursday afternoon

    she knew you set them there (you
    a beer drinker who liked banana bread and not bananas)
    anticipating a quiet weekend visit
    from a sister four hours away.

  9. Revenge

    It seemed appropriate;
    a bottle of red and murder.
    Alone in the shadows
    she contemplates her choices.

    They were the color of night
    and as soft as silk.
    A cool G laid on the counter;
    she slipped the underwear into her bag.

    Airports are never a good place to sleep;
    phantoms lurk in shadows.
    A woman drunk on red and plotting murder smiles,
    she's feeling good in her thousand dollar purchase.

  10. I will be back...
    thank you for the invitation!


  11. Back again...
    I dealt with them individually:


  12. I write truly horrific poetry, just for laughs. Is that acceptable here?