That Year At Yale Poem by Joe Bisicchia

Alma matters.

Me and the siblings shared a cave. For an age, we painted solitary mammoths on the walls, threw our solitary thoughts at the stalagmites as if solitary ideas had might.

Our poop stunk.

And we burned our share of fights over who sat nearest the fire until we learned about shared might and how marshmallows toast just right, despite the nearby stink.

And now we share the world. The fluff, and all the good stuff, and spin the spiffy wheels we invented and later mass produced.


Published by Rabid Oak,2019