a packed lunch
brown bag rolled at the top
where my fingers catch cramped
armful of books cutting into an elbow
loose papers wedged
between random pages
like my wrong vowels
my wrong shoes, my wrong jeans
sliding onto brown vinyl seat
a decade before safety belts


dVerse prompt from a minimalist photograph
more associative than ekphrasic – but minimalist in the sparseness of detail and the lack of narrative.



I was going to gather eggs in the pretty basket
I’d found hanging on the gate near the coop.
Playing farmer in the dell –
Hiking boots, skirt, my hair pulled back
to show my naked face.
But the eggs … smeared
with shit … blood.


dVerse quadrille Monday – on a Tuesday as always because my Monday writing time is before dVerse wakes up to Monday. So it’s a good think I am mainly here for the practice.