It is difficult to break off the rust after not writing for a while. I am finding it odd the direction my mind turned after being force-fed a constant diet of Christmas music, movies and advertisement since the middle of November. The Weekly Wordle came up with the following words to use in a poem: prison, cloak, become, lens, goods, cash, pursuit, skirt, wild, Venus and beloved.
by Mike Patrick
You come to me in your prison cloak,
wild and disheveled,
daring to knock on my door.
Your eye, an ugly lens of longing,
measures my wife: my Venus, my love, my life,
like shopworn goods on a merchant’s table.
Nothing awaits you here,
no cash, no love will you find;
but know, if in your pursuit, if you dare touch
the hem of my beloved’s skirt,
I will become the same as you,
and wear your prison cloak.