Monday, April 12, 2010

No Place to Go

When my teapot stopped whistling,
water entombed inside rumbled,
letting loose muffled pops
like a gasp or a cap gun
firing under pressure
and belching smoke

In my neighborhood we bought
rolls of caps from the corner store,
set off each cap with a rock,
inhaled the sulfur smell,
and watched the puff of smoke

Linda Watskin © 2010


  1. I like this!!

  2. I enjoy your poetry very much. Perhaps you might like mine?

    I'm enjoying the poetry month!