Author: Kyle Edwards

POLKA dots of ketchup so I
THREW it into the washer hoping for
MAGIC, but no, they’re still there.
SPURT of frantic scrubbing also non-magical.

REVUE program design a
FIGHT with the (micro)managers like a cruel
BINGO game of unpredictable demands like
SERIF or sans-serif for the “special thanks” section.

DITTY stuck in my head, like a
BARGE, moving but not seeming to.
CANON says such songs must be bad, but
GOLLY, I like it despite myself.

FILTH litters the halls and courtyards, all
TRACE of its former glory gone.
STONY faced librarians, not jobless, finger the odd
FOLIO that managed to escape consumption.

”STIFF upper lip,”
QUOTH the raven.
(MUCKY memory on that one.
WEDGEd homework between parties.)

IONIC bonding, molecular weights: such things
DAUNT me more than asking out Alicia Stevens, so I
BRIBE Simon Grandfield to help get my grade
NORTH of a C-.

REPEL or attract? With her, it’s the
MANOR in which she criticizes my spelling and blows her
MONEY on dictionaries to make her point, a
ZESTY personality that I find to much.

CREPE day is Saturday.
CADDY pulls out for the Nutella,
DRIER noise in the background, a
TANGO of chores and pleasure.

QUASH old habits and ways of thinking.
MOULT my old skin like a snake,
STALK the prey of new goals, with an
EDICT that says, This time is different.