We drank too much.

Stayed up too late

watching elephants disappear.

The beer was flat. The ice

receded. The moon

tracked its footprints into the house.

Bases loaded, the batter struck out looking.

The kicker shanked the field goal wide

to the right. The wide receiver took a knee.

The drone strike found its target.

The drone strike missed its target.

The drone strike turned the village to dust.

We stood in line for hours

waiting to vote.

We stood in line for hours

to procure a gallon of gas.

The hurricane struck out looking.

The hurricane stripped our limbless roofs.

The car swerved into oncoming traffic.

Traffic thickened in our veins.

The DNA test came back negative.

The DNA test came back positive.

The father never came back.

The father started smoking again

after the heart attack.

We ate too much red meat.

We ate too much corn syrup.

Our vote wasn’t counted after all.

Our vote was packed into safe districts.

We lost track of the days

we didn’t have to work overtime

to make rent. The rent woke up.
 
The rent went up in smoke.

We ignored the lump in the lymph node.

Doctors hit the lymph node hard.

Not our doctors. Too expensive.

Someone brought us a pot pie instead.

The dog ate it. The printer jammed.

Dandelions took over the yard.
 
Smoke took over the sky.

We drank too much. The world was flat.

Poachers took out the last rhino.
 
Few understood the news.
Kevin Craft is our Poet in Residence for January.