So. Don’t ask me where this stuff comes from because I haven’t a clue.
Poem #10 with Rice
They look like maggots, each plated
swollen grain. One pressed against
the others, smug and all too familiar
for anyone’s comfort. It’s absurd this
expectation they belong on every
plate. Chummy with the beans, those
lunkish things pretending to be easy
friends but deadly to all falling in
cahoots with them. On their own, with
a saucy accomplice, it’s no surprise,
they turn with malice on you. Bland
on the tongue, a wicked sugar inside.
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Tip for tonight’s poem
I really liked Brenda’s poem and want her to continue writing great poems.