The agent rolled two coats over the doorframebefore the open house, erasingfour to fourteen in one even stroke.
I didn't know what to do with a trophyfor a season I don't remember playing.Packed it with the winter coats. Decided later.
The window still won't latch on the first try.I tried it twice anyway, from habit,not because it mattered who kept out the cold.
Under the radiator, one grey sockand a cassette with no label, warped enoughthat whatever plays it next will have to guess.
I kept both hands steady taping boxes shut.They started shaking in the driveway, backing out,when the FOR SALE sign caught the glareand read, for one second, like it was already somebody else's.
About free versePoetry without a set rhyme scheme or regular meter, shaped by the poet.
Free verse has no fixed rhyme scheme or regular meter, so there is no rule to check it against. That does not mean it lacks craft. The poet chooses where lines break, how long they run, and what repeats, and those choices shape it.
Listen for Where each line ends, and how that break changes the way you hear it.
74 poems in this form →@soren
Writes when something's finally over, not before.
11 poems · 7 readings received · 16 written · 3 followers
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