I counted eight chandeliers,
and lighting reminiscent of a level in Castlevania.
I chirped down coffee as I made my rounds,
spoke to some of your former coworkers,
and another fellow colleague who met you
for only you one day,
several weeks ago,
you had only spoken to on the phone,
and never met in person.
I am in awe of the amount of live bodies present.
People shuffled in and
I shake more hands than a politician.
We played tennis match with stories of you.
I can't car jumpstart your corpse,
but I can scream.
Preferably in a closed bedroom closet,
as recommended to me by someone
this morning when I dropped off my keys.
Toy Corner, At the Haircut Place Cinquain
sandals slap the
drab blue carpet and hands
throw directives to toys now sky
Mouse Trap board game cage
snaps like a crocodile mouth.
Diving board jump to floor from bed.
Lights and sounds bird chirp battle.
Barrel roll again.
Jackhammer bang. Gavel slung.
Red numbers exercise, now, bipolar.
Changing of the guard.
Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the Midwest. When not working two jobs, she listens to music and scrawls lines on the back of gas station receipts. Her work has recently appeared in Tuck Magazine, VerseWrights, Communicators League, Duane's PoeTree site, Ariel Chart, and Synchronized Chaos.
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