Tropical Depression: this is just to say


Smell this.
I found it

In the fridge
Behind those old plums

You said you were saving
for breakfast
Last week, Monday.

I could’ve gotten prunes
you know
We’re not made of money
And plums aren’t in season.

Anyway, smell this.
I think it’s turned.


As submitted to the happyrobot / end of poetry month / william carlos williams poetry challenge, 2008.

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