The Goddess of Small Things

Today was mainly Autumn coming in and messing things up like a toddler and people saying "Oh! Look at the rain!".  I have to be quiet and not say how much I like the rain.  On the way home I saw a small plastic hamster.  So small I thought it was a weird seed but it was plastic and painted with hamster markings.  I would have brought it home, but what need have I for a small plastic hamster?  I left it on one of those electric container things that rear up in the street. 

It interrupted what I was writing in my head.  This is a bit of a showy-off poetry form derived from the sestina, and is a tritina.  Which sounds a bit like someone who should run a nail bar.  So bear with me and my showing-off.  It's good for my brain to engage with these different forms.


Tritina:  Bones

This is the story.  These are the bones
that grew in the shade, but still grew up;
that never were seen but witnessed all,

became a fortress and a cage, but all
that might couldn’t break these bones,
though made sure they were quite fucked-up.

So from this point there’s only really up.
I’m giving it a shot, a once and all.
I’ve got some stock; I’ll make no bones:

These bones are up to win the set, love-all.