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Day 24: Write a poem that’s different in some way from anything you’ve ever written. Take a chance! Be wild!


A short prose poem.

The neighbor boy across the way threw his sister's barbie dolls onto the roof of their laundry shed. They're still there, naked and rotting in the sun day by day. I think there is a raccoon who comes to play with them at night before it gets into the garbage and scatters food bits in the yard. Because sometimes the barbies - they've moved, suddenly face up as if tanning their plastic bodies in the sun, sometimes face down as if they're misshapen, pale blondies baking in the sun. Even if someone did get a ladder and with a sigh, climb up and get the barbies, they're ruined, both of them. They'd be hideous and tangled and weathered. I think they might have even grown crows feet and flabby stomachs and unibrows and sagging melty butts while they were up there. They'll never be pristine, box-condition beautiful ever again. Frankly, I think the boy did his sister an unwitting favor.










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