She holds an icy Corona
in wispy willow hands,
turns her lazy gaze
to the burnt brown bluffs
coyote brush and sage;
at shadows trembled
across mud river remains.
Ants crawl
and a rusty nail
lies amongst
the stone stained broken
shards of earthen vessels
at her feet.


This is a wordle poem.  Jump over to the Wordle site and see what others did with this week’s words.  I also had Joseph Harker’s Reverie post in the back of my mind while I wrote this.  He challenged us to take a basic image and add poetic rhetoric to spin the poem.


9 thoughts on “Afterwards

  1. Pingback: Claudsy's Blog

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