Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.
Choose a genuine response. Counts appear only after several readers agree.
Alliteration is the poet's parlor trick—the showy sibling of subtlety, the sequined suit at the serious party.
The kettle starts politely, a small complaint behind its teeth, then works itself to outrage—
Dear Will, You've been dead four hundred years and teenagers still have to read you.
Before sunrise— her kitchen light already warming the window.
My therapist says I hide in metaphors.
The kettle hisses its slow complaint— ssssssss— like a secret it's been holding since last night.
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