Today there were two prompts to choose from: “message in a bottle” or write an acrostic poem where each line starts with a word that, when read down, reads as its own line of original or classic poetry, or a headline, etc.

I had energy to do short poems for both (or maybe I was just procrastinating…).

The first, a “message in a bottle” micro:

my

message in a bottle

sent blank

rescue

is an easier word

to say than accept

And the second, with war and atrocity so heavy on my mind, I wrote an acrostic (below) that takes title and line inspiration from “The Soldier” by Rupert Brooke, which you can read here.

In Some Corner of a Foreign Field

If there is one benefit of war, to the snarling wounds of those who are caught,

I can’t see it. I will never forget her hand, edge of the photograph cutting off what

should be grasping a hot latte, or brushing her son’s hair before school. Thriving. To

die is always our fate, but not like this. No one should. When I can’t

think about it anymore — (she was wearing a watch, a wedding band) — can’t have

only these images of life stilled, stopped, in

this most horrifying way, I turn up my music, sweep the floor, make a list

of everything I need on my weekly grocery run, wallow in some life of

me that seems, now, utterly selfish and necessary.