On behalf of National Poetry Month, I submit the following. I am a born prose writer and poetry is a discipline I have never mastered, but hard work made my work passable, at least.
The Death of the Party
At evening’s end
exaggerations
caricature
motivated by restlessness
like an itch unscratched
leading directly to the door
these remain when all else
has long passed away
In those last waning moments
Conversation competition commences
cleverest victory can
circumvent the social hierarchy
Yet, age and experience
trumps youth’s insecurity
Humor—
the wild card
The catalyst
for our brand
of social mobility
Older party-goers
establish the rules
Remember similar
defeats
Inadvertent misinterpretation
Often reflects intention
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