My Day 8 poem is my response to the NaPoWriMo.net prompt, which is to write ‘a poem in the form of a monologue delivered by someone who is dead.’ When I lived in a semi-rural area for a few years, we occasionally had to remove a mouse or two from the house (the cats could not be bothered, it seems); I based my poem on one of these poor creatures.
I was warm.
It was warm inside, wherever it was;
but the taste in my mouth, first sweet,
is now bitter, and I have no energy to move.
I thought I saw a four-legged creature or two
approach me, as the light grew dim.
They sniffed about, then walked away.
Something surrounded me; I felt myself
rising, as though I were being lifted up
The snap of winter flitted around me
between muffled sounds, a steady beat;
until I felt myself falling.
The cocoon disappeared, and suddenly
the ground, uneven, frost beneath my belly;
I do not know where I am now.
It is cold…
(7 April 2021 – posted April 8th)
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