For The Sunday Whirl: Wordle #135
And for Poets United: Poetry Pantry #176
Desire to isolate, better yet to eradicate,
brontosaurus that emerged from murky puddle
at far corner of back forty in befuddled brain.
No end to migraine pain it elicits as it sluggishly
stomps through marshy acres of shadowy
no-man’s land I strongly want not to remember.
Small head atop long lanky neck that stretches
out so that mouth (filled with razor sharp teeth)
might reach silky soft leaves at tree tops.
Wonder if this slow race for survival between us
will ever end or if the last thing I’ll know will be
his ancient bad breath on back of my neck
strangely reminiscent of stale whiskey.
Elizabeth Crawford 11/17/13