Dear Mr. Collins,
I was asked to read a poem,
So I put it under a microscope
Between two glass slides
And I pressed my ear against the silent ink, straining for words;
I was a mouse chucked haphazardly into the abyss of the poem,
Frantically avoiding the mouse traps within the maze.
I stumbled looking for a light switch
And only found a candle.
They asked us to waterski,
So I dog-paddled across the turbulent ocean
With salty water burning my eyes.
Finally, I had enough.
So I threatened the words with my candle
And smiled as I finally forced a confession.
No comments:
Post a Comment