Frances McCue


NaPoWriMo #12
April 12, 2013, 8:53 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

The Poet’s Wife

Her taste for bourbon did not run out;
Her cat is on your lap.
Cat of the dead woman, popped off
As she said she would, though
Her taste for bourbon did not run out.

She grew tired of making sandwiches;
She did not refill the plates.
Her taste for bourbon did not run out
While the men watched the ballgame
With that horse’s ass she hated.

No, her taste for bourbon did not run out.
The cat remained; the house chilled
And whoosh—gone were the men
With their chatter. And though she went,
Her taste for bourbon did not run out.

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3 Comments so far
Leave a comment

Nice! Does this form have a name? I’ve never seen it before. Thanks.

Comment by michaeljarmer

Nope, it doesn’t. I made up the form. 🙂

Comment by francesmccue

Well said, and true and I like the new form.

Comment by Rachel Stansberry




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