My Day 8 poem, based on the prompt at https://www.napowrimo.net/day-eight-9/

Bartholomew was a duck
from a long, long time ago

He wasn’t cut out for much
even when he went astray

Every adventure
was a misadventure

He tried to shoot up
but kept hitting birds

He tried to paint the black market pink
(stocks, bonds, and commodities wasn’t his thing)

He wrote appropriate words
in inappropriate places

He kept every feather that fell out
but he never had anything to write with

So when Howard came along
Bartholomew went silent—
smug in the satisfaction
that it wasn’t his movie
that almost caused Lucasfilm
to go bankrupt

(8 April 2022)

 

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