Stone Soup Croutons is a weekly poem I write using lines and impressions picked up from poems overheard from Stone Soup's open mic readers and features. I figure out a title (and sometimes the rest of the poem) later. You can read the other ones I've done since 2015 here. To paraphrase Lorne Michaels, this poem doesn't go up because it's ready, it goes up because it's Friday morning.
Last night was another open mic. Today is the poem. Don't mean to be curt in my intro, but it was a short but sweet open mic. The heat from the past few days wore people out and kept them away. I'm just happy to get the poem done early and start new work. Politics were on my mind quite a bit, and I'm glad yesterday's participants helped me get that out. Thanks for reading.
Return to Sender
What's going to happen
when we find ourselves
all in unknown places
we were told to go back to.
We'll have to invade our homes,
just to pick up our things.
Some marching orders
to drum off damnation,
a hashtag banner
to scurry under.
Or we can stand at the track
waiting for the train
to take us to penance.
Will we wait for each next train
because every car is full, no matter the time.
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| Thanks, friends. |
Special thanks to Yvonne, Martha Boss, Laurel Lambert and James Van Looy.
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