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What if Six Spaceships
There is nothing to write about she Prue whined
My reaction to this is not keenly kind
What if that sewing box fell on your head?
What if you died of fright, stone-cold and dead?
She looked at me like I was a weirdo or goon
What if six spaceships dropped away from the moon?
Now I’m on a roll and cannot quit
Loving the reaction of this shocked little nitwit
What if a komodo dragon bit your arm?
Her face has turned purple pink with alarm
The what if’s help me write, I say
She has not written one word by the end of the day
though she claims a writer is who she wants to be
Her imagination is stonewalled by herself, her worst enemy
I am a writer she tells everyone who is brand new
I roll my eyes at my delusional cousin, Prue.
Copyright ©
Caren Krutsinger
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