As I’ve mentioned, I’m enrolled in a class called Structure of Verse, which requires that I write a poem from a prompt every other week.
This week’s assignment was an aubade, a poem traditionally about two lovers separating at dawn.
This assignment just so happened to coincide with my defeat of the monster cockroach I mentioned to you all in this post. I won’t go into the gory details of the killing, but I assure you it was achieved sustainably through all-natural means. Anyway, the subject matter was just a little too good to pass up, so I give you my take on the aubade.
At 6:10 AM, it is
a long night together, just you and me –
the cat fell asleep several hours ago.
I have never been more tired or
dawn pushes its fingers through the blinds
and I know it’s finally, finally time for rest.
Alas, the room’s a mess:
covers and pillows avalanched across
my faux-Turkish rug, books and
papers thrown from their usual
arrangements on the shelves.
I can only imagine what my
neighbor thinks of
me now – the slamming
on the wall, the bed
rocking, that one time
I admit it.
And yet here is the sun, and I
rise from the disaster we’ve made of my
home, go to the window,
open blinds and glass –
the air is so cool.
Then I toss you out
into the grass because, even though
it took all night, you’re finally
dead, you creepy [CENSORED]