A Second Life for the South Manchester Reporter
Smokeless fuel waits,
coal-like on a newly
crumpled Manchester Reporter.
Baptism of Fire
old job contracts
virus heavy tissues.
Words released, smudged, free from structure,
Irise ignore a broken promise
subtle lemon tongues taste
me, new and no longer with you.
(unsettling this sounds like a sex poem, but was addressed to someone in my old employment).
Three today, I couldn't limit myself to one cinquain (five line poem) from the prompt for Day 5, NaPoWriMo.