Thursday, April 7, 2022

Day 7. Cry Over Spilt Milk


The milk spills,

A slow, soundless slop onto the floor.

Slobbered tears dripping from a rubber teat.

-A second’s hush- 

before 

misery cascades:


The baby flings the leaking bottle,

accidentally whomping the lurking toddler

Who, sobbing profusely, 

stumbles over the slurping puppy

and tromps her trickling tail,

unleashing a hurricane of howls, 

which whips the baby into a glorious torrent of wails.

A streaming teeming whitewater deluge.

It may be a truism  that there is no use in crying over spilled milk.

But that’s because every grownup knows:  The kids got it covered. 

Prompt: Write a poem that argues against, or somehow questions, a proverb or saying.



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