About last night, I’m very sorry.
I only saw it from the corner of my eye.
Moving fast, too fast to avoid;
like a storm on a summer afternoon
catches you without an umbrella.
The impact was small, a couple of bumps
and it was over except for the guilt.
Should I go back, look for an owner
or ignore it and keep on going?
Would a child encounter the carcass
in the morning and grieve for their loss
Or would a buzzard be thankful
the Lord had provided another meal?
Don’t be sad; I think it was just a possum.
- Kevin Oliver
(National Poetry Writing Month prompt, day 4: write a simple, sad poem possibly in sonnet form. I kept the 14 lines and brief format but left out any semblance of rhyming.)
Kevin Oliver Poetry 