Alex’s poetry prompt: a poem about a pet that doesn’t use the words, fur, paw or teeth.
He peers into the room
and gauges the wide open space
where he will surely be exposed.
Then, with the fearlessness of a warrior
and the animation of a road runner
he races forward on his three good legs.
he can be a shrimp
curls like an embryo.
sleeps under my
feet. is heavy.
but i love him.
is my best friend.
Alex Harry Stone