Death in the Morning
I couldn’t sleep last night because my oldest son asked for help on his English project. He asked me to write five poems about war and death. They could be separate or together and then were some rules about what they had to contain. Ok I know why am I writing the poems?
Him: Because you wrote other sons poems.
Me: silence…got nothing to say
Me: How many?
Him: Five and hey mom they can’t be that good, so don’t try to hard.
Me: silence again
Him (to dad): its cool mom’s an English major, it comes in handy.
So I was up early this morning trying to think about death and all the glorious ways it could be written about because hey that’s how I like to start the day. When son came down for breakfast I told him I had been working on them and he again told me to make sure they weren’t too good because he doesn’t want to have to read them aloud in class. So I have three done and I have to take a break from death besides now I have to think about how to write bad poetry.