Poetry

Did I mention I'm in a poetry class? Welp, I'm in a poetry class. My teacher and I don't really agree on the ways poetry should be written (he likes enjamblement (cool word, that. Enjamblement. Just say it a few times out loud) and I cringe whenever I see an enjambled sentence. Enjambled), but it's going well so far.

I also have the sneaking suspicious he doesn't like giving full marks, because I couldn't find any fault with my last two assignments . . . of course, that might be me thinking spitefully, but y'know.

I liked my latest piece of poetry that I made up on the fly for my assignment, so here it is!:

Cucumber Melon
By Mariah Burkett

Flipping the bottle this way and that,
I sit it on the table,
Watching as little silvery-green blimps
push their way to the surface;
Leaving little bubbles in their wake,
Like streams of fairy dust.

I twist the ridged cap,
And breathe in a sweet perfume--
Not an overpowering scent,
But that which smells of summer;
Of fruits and gatherings;
Of cantaloupes and cucumbers.

I touch the viscous liquid,
Then gather some in my palms,
And turn the faucet on.
Rubbing smooth green between my hands,
And listening to tiny bubbles pop,
I dip my fingers in rushing, warm water.