The prompt is mallet. Mallet? Really… A very unpoetic word, but here goes. A poem today about a particularly difficult phone call I received over 20 years ago. 20 years, but I can still feel that moment like it was yesterday.
The news Hits me hard, Like a mallet. My sister's voice Whispers, repeats. I am on my knees, The phone on the floor. The room becomes Stifling. Nothing, I cannot think, Peppered with questions, Who should we call What is the number When can you leave. I cannot answer, Stunned.