Poetica Unfit

 

I looked out the window this morning and saw that the air was dancing with adjectives.

Similes stuttered like children making excuses for unfinished homework, but they were elbowed out of the way by a metaphor.

Conjunctions were devoured by subordinate clauses until stanzas climbed upwards toward the sublime,

Then tumbled into nursery rhyme.

Nancy Sherer

 

 


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