Day 7 prompt: Write a tritina. At least it’s not a damned sestina.
This poem has been deleted
and leaves an elongated space;
call it editorial control.
I have no control;
which words may be deleted
and still speak with only space?
Floating anchorless in space,
no imagined desperations of control;
just a life, and will, deleted.
Endless space, control…deleted.