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NaPoWriMo 2016

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it starts with flying monkeys

".. the poem begins in Kansas, and maybe ends in Oz. ... You don't want the flying monkeys in the first line." --Billy Collins, former U.S. Poet Laureate
a flock of disaster, the flying monkeys they drop from the sky, a terrible rain doing the bidding of their twisted master screeching and howling with triumph vaulting back into the air their flight is an insult to all of creation they return to the dark castle to await further instructions the stocky munchkin farmer watches the cloud of horror pass over head wonders what the witch wanted worries that some day he will feel the grasping claws lifting him to an unspeakable fate yearning without much hope for the days when clouds were good news we love this story the sweet thrill of fear imagining such a horror and the security of knowing that in a world with winged monkeys all you need to be safe is courage and a bucket of water. somewhere far far away, an oddly garbed farmer watches a predator drone circle and head back to base to await further instructions and after a hard day of raining destruction and keeping me safe somewhere in kansas the pilot logs off and goes home to kiss his wife and hug his children