down the pie hole?
Always remember to at least
keep all webbed feet, lanky arms,
angel wings and tails in the vehicle,
and throw your
Rock 'Em Sock 'Em boxing gloves
to fight on, champion.
Young comma.
The Living Room
playing chalk outline,
news channel blurting out
expletive deleted, expletive deleted
in machine beeps.
Trap-door rugs covering
ivory colored carpet.
Garage door, open sesame,
fishing gear in the living room.
And mail playing cards,
wishing someone would
play shuffleboard with them,
across a different surface.
Spilling Words
winds me around clock-ticks,
so I spill words and
sweep up any breadcrumb remnants
and throw them elsewhere,
into another wastebasket.
Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul. When not working two jobs, she listens to music and scrawls lines on the back of gas station receipts. Her work has recently appeared at VerseWrights, In Between Hangovers, Taxicab Magazine, and in the first print issue of Ramingo's Porch. She has fifteen poems in Ambrosia: A Poetry Anthology. All proceeds from the anthology are donated to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.
