Several years ago I played around with a series of poems about the elements of fiction. Only a few of these (notably, "If Plot Is What Happens," which appears in Body My House) had staying power.
I'm not sure what was up with this one -- it's rather slight (a short, short story), but I played with it as a one-sentence exercise and sent it around. And now I'm posting it here.
Alternative Plot
Or it's like fishing--
with each crisis the line
drawing tighter, and at the climax
the fish is caught
but the line breaks,
all the tension unraveling,
the fish lost and nothing
for the children's supper.
Thanks for reading!
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