He paces nine steps,
stops,
fidgets,
and nine steps back.
He mutters something under his breath.
Shakes his head once,
twice,
curses the ground
and nine steps back.
He removes something from his pocket,
replaces it hastily,
curses a little louder this time
- takes a deep breath.
Fidgets before another nine-step trek.
He suddenly stops on step three:
another deep breath,
“Fuck it.”
Reaches in his pocket again
and with one precise movement:
“ZANG”!
Sweet nicotine.
A contest entry
- nighttime slapshot... by sweet arrival.
400 points, ended May 5, 9 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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you worked up to the ending very nicely. i wasn't quite sure where you were headed with it until the end. i always like those type of endings. thank you for your entry.
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