A poem and prompts for National Poetry Month

The Literary Magazine, Winter Tangerine, has been posting the most beautiful poetry prompts for National Poetry Month.  They’re designed by Tiffany Mallery.  Some of my favorites so far for the month are below as well as a poem I wrote for my MFA packet after the death of teenager, Jordan Edwards, when he left a party in Texas.  A lot of my poems are just a sidewalk crack away from education.

This poem represents the first and last time I wrote about baby teeth.  It’s one of my favorite poems from my packet.  They say don’t share a poem on a blog, because then they can’t be published, but I’m too close to this poem already, so here’s a home for it.

Because a mother always:

After Edna St. Vincent Millay


May the wound

that is open

even this morning

enter the house

like a missing glove,

a found tooth

in the mother’s

half-broken, but


music box.

Given to her

on her wedding day

glass over




housed in the center

of the governor assembly.

The key

even nudged

plays two

single notes

of a wedding soundtrack.


May the teeth

be counted

one more time

each one

placed at the fold

of a pillowcase

for spare change


from a father’s

clay paperclip holder

made in first grade

art class.


May the wound

that confused the act

of blinking

lit with

a stranger’s match,

leave a hole

at the temple

of a mother’s

only heart,


over —

a succulent

cut, rooted

in sink water.


May the wound

the teeth

an unpaid bill,

last night’s casserole

made on the breath

of a last amen

be done,

left to a hole

seen clear-through

to another



May the wound

have a name too.


May the teeth

grown old

with remaining

tic four syllables

over and over

Jordan Edwards

Jordan Edwards

Jordan Edwards

six clicks behind

the front gap

and it spills out.

Only once

a tangible