April 19, 2022
Prompt: Start a poem with a command
Look out, little stranger, little ick.
There’s nothing for you here, just a
ragged edge, a paper cut
to slice the tender finger skin.
There’s disarray, a butterdish
upsided by the Smirnoff sitting
on the kitchen countertop.
Look out, look away,
go on. Get out
while you have a chance.