The premise of this poem was to choose a word once an hour for nine hours, whether it was the first word that came to mind or one that you happened to like in that moment, record the words, and then create a poem out of them. This is what I came up with:

 

Dim lighting doesn’t always do it best 

Sometimes it’s better to just paint it black

A necessary veil to protect the innocent ones;

the men and the men

And don’t forget the men!

Their pliant minds so easily plied 

As my bosom, swelling out in invitation, presents Adam with not one,

but TWO,

red apples 

We should know by now by the fault of our own 

to bury luminosity and lust down deep 

deeper than that

Beneath the sepulcher of Aphrodite 

Know to slip silently beneath the cellar door

and secretly suffocate the aphrodisiac maniac within

Emerge lackluster and limp 

matrons waiting to mother

She hastens nightly toward moonlight

within dream state she is free

While lucid, damned to drown beneath bleached white gowns

A perfunctory life, at best

So myopic the world

So catastrophic is she

We. Her. Me. 

Published by Alison Howe