InterBoard Poetry Competition

DREAM SONG 911
      Jim Zola
      (Writer's Block)

Love, the crack in the wall grew some last night.

Don’t call. I won’t answer. I’m yellow

as this legal pad. How did Miss P.

take death’s dip? Not fast food and doughnuts.

Poor heart, race. Pill bottles rattle

in the cupboard, echo empty verse.

Sugar, your placebo ran out

just before you did. I doctor myself.

Just me and a house that needs a pump.

I roll my sleeves, pray. If I had nerve

I’d drive the highway, do the big swerve.

But there are doors to go through. Steps.

It can wait. Come see me. Bring wine, red and cheap.