Some small creatures, like moths,
are born the color of bark or dead leaves,
so they can eat or avoid being eaten.
How honest is that?
It’s no different
than the way a strategically placed mirror
can make a room seem bigger.
Or how deception and survival align
when I must smile and say I’m fine.
{the dVerse prompt which inspired this poem is the word mirror}
The voice is ancient and familiar,
belonging to school days,
bouncing off the walls of the gym
like end-of-day announcements
from the principal,
or the bright ping
of a red, rubber four-square ball
entering your zone
when you’re looking the other way.
{Almost a quadrille. I’m counting the hyphenated words as a single word. I knowww …that’s breaking the rules a little, but it’s a poem not algebra, so I hope I’m forgiven. Inspired by a fun prompt from dVerse.}
What does it mean
to stand or not stand?
Who decides justice or mercy?
A sandwich lies on the plate, half-eaten.
A song is half-sung,
A crime half-committed.
Souls rise up from the earth
and from small clay jars on the mantel,
even from the ocean.
Pets also. And cobras.
And circus elephants who ceased
their performances
a half-century ago.
Today is the day of new beginnings,
surely not of endings?
Sophie’s Shelves 