This is what I got. Very interesting.
Think hard. Will that truck to stay in it's lane,
that spark in dry grass to snuff itself, my heart
to open. I have done what I've done and what
I haven't done. There will be no dying of regret.
There is air. Grass, trees, bugs crawling in weeds.
This is the world, changing and not. Safe or not.
Over and over, your face looking at me, your voice
dead. Away, away. Why this dream? This fear?
Thank you for not. Still here.
I'm not going to talk about this one. I am going to talk about prompts. Last year, for poem-a-day, I didn't use any provided prompts, other than what life handed me that day. But often I like what prompts do. They stretch me. Turn my mind into silly putty to press down on the prompt and then use deformation to arrive at something new.