Alyssa Trivett - Three Poems

Monday Evening 

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,

and another,

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 

Yellow

sandals slap the

drab blue carpet and hands

throw directives to toys now sky

falling.

Alarm Clock

Hammer hand.

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.

Pillowcase thoughts.

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.