Black rivulets of makeup
pour down her face.
"We won't have anywhere to live," she cries
in her handkerchief.
"I know," I say, "but it's my job, you didn't pay."
Her hands rummage through her purse
for the house key.
"It's not our fault my husband died."
I wrench the key from her tight fingers.
"How do you sleep?" she asks.
It's a good question.
Author notes
Here I am taking on a character to write my poem, I would never do this to someone.
A contest entry
- prewrite contest 1st come 1st serve by serenity silvermoon.
900 points, ended November 14, 375 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
please let me know what you think
Comments
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you know I am looking for a place to buy.. but having been through this and even if I had not I am like you.. I can not even look at those properties .... I see homes for sale people desperate to save they're credit and cribs are in one bed room a child's small bed and toys in another the barn has a pony in it I just weep it is so hard to see.. at least I had no children at home. This is so the truth well written my beautiful friend.
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Its very different (in a good way). I would like to see it drawn out a little longer and go deeper into the issues. Like why exactly is the person reposesing the house (as far as if he let her keep what would be the consequence? Would he get in trouble with his boss and lose his job? If his boss doesn't fire him, what will happen to the boss?) You give a piece of a large puzzle but I would like to see more. Maybe something to think to about for a future of this piece. With all of that said, this is a good write! it makes you think
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I would!
But where are all these repo houses going for a song? That's the problem.
Well written
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Ah! I love this. It's soo different,
but an incredibly good different.
=]
Awsome.
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