Irene

Note: This poem was to be written yesterday but it wasn't.

(a postcard poem)
Rain, wind, and weather
makes 24 month old injury ache.
I sleep much, forget daily postcard poem.

I do my homework,
read a book,
binge on honey nut Chex Mix.

I tell myself
I will indulge
in caffeine and chocolate,

melted center cookies
as I wait for Irene to kill my power
as she’s done to 90,000 others.