Poetry Exercises

These are two poetry exercises I wrote for Skip Fox's poetry class.

Yellow Fingertips
Level Lithium Level poke poke poke Fat abscess to tell the world of your pastime poke poke poke bruises in the creases of your elbow-the lump in your forearm-the fingertip spots on the tops of your feets (got a little desperate with that one didn’t we)—all told your mother of your proclivities--
Now– she doesn’t love you anymore—all because you took the wrong medication.

Small Black Heart
Oh, oh, oh, my little black broken heart. Has faded. Only the outline remains, of course. Just an almost complete heart. Almost on my finger, it rests on its way….making its way….making its way. Someday only the etch and sketch remains will stare at me and regret….and regret. Oh, you, aren’t you glad his name is not branded on your ass like you’d always begged him to. Lovers. You on my hand. I did it on purpose. When I did it. I did it on purpose. You represent me in your music note. Purple and Blue. Purple and Blue. But my heart is black, I want it to stay black. It fades to gray as the days…..as the days. I always told you I’d rather be black and white than gray anyday. You won’t have me now. I can’t keep enough salt in my already thick veins to please you. You claim you’ll fix it….in a week…a week…but I’d rather cut my hands off than look another day at your little black broken heart plastered almost on my fingertip.