Hope, a Vulture

A poem combining two prompts

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay

hope might be a vulture, she said, standing
in the rubble, a pale ghostwriter of her own story.
the memory was bleached sienna, a washed-out
stepchild’s daydream. but hope, sweet hope, that thing

with feathers, was flapping wild, head buried in
our carrion disaster, overindulgent. we shooed it
away with dark pebbles, peppering it with red. but hope won’t
be disappointed, nor will it disappoint. hope’s cry resounds

inside our weary souls — hope’s cry resounds.

Author’s Note: I was out of town all weekend and unable to write. The October 29th Daily Special Poetry Prompt was my favorite type of prompt — a list of words to use in a poem, so I bookmarked it for later. This poem combines that prompt with the November 1 poetry prompt, a “hope poem.”

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