November PAD Challenge, Day 14. Prompt: Write a "stuck" poem.
oh, yes, the fine cream colored
journal pages are blank, the covers
careful geometries of green, black,
red
reproach one, the
black pens, too, slim missiles, lie
by their side, yet to discharge their
thick shots peppering the sky
no inky bullet points, striving,
strident, on the page, no
curlicues of decorative braid,
no animal killed and caught,
framed on the page for
all to see
these squat pens going dry in the
drawer, beside powdery cubes
of lavender sachet,
stuck, as if an insect in a
jar of cold cream, as if
frozen in amber,
accidentally preserved for
your glancing eyes
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