An extended poetic moment

I added on to my first Ars Poetica.  I would like some feedback before Friday’s critique in class.


Poetic Moment

A guitar string breaks down the hall,

muffled by the crying baby next door

as a window drops two floors under,

sending shards and swears out to the sidewalk.

The guitar string breaks in time with my finger

sliding the switch to OFF

as I gently pat the fuzz of my static stricken hair.

My pats move in rhyme

to the baby’s cries

and the slamming of the complex doors.

And I hear music,

clashing and inharmonic,

as I’ve never heard before.


But it passes,

as all good moments do.

The baby takes breath,

the next wail a new pitch of distress.

The obscenities fade

into the rushing traffic.

The guitar string twang looms

a while longer.

I find a wet spot, and the sliding to ON ushers back the comforts of

dead noise.

The poetry of the morning

is over.


*Insert your thought here*

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