3 (NaPoWriMo Day 28)

3 poems left to go for National Poetry Month 2026, and 3 is the title of today's poem.

3

Breathing yesterday's troubles through a paper bag.
Shuffling kings and nobles into and out of the trash.
Two parades in 2nd grade political turbulence.
This one will turn out ok.

Spinning Midas rage, through 8 bit pixel cages,
Three berates "lies" and troubles no one his age should grease.
He parades and remonstrates in astral planes of imagined slights and mysticism.
Will this one turn out ok?

Sighing death at the slightest rest through a paper towels shadow comfort.
Will One's fiction laid excuse bed-ridden ladle spill blood upon this liar's table?
A platter full from the banquet of self-excuse.
One won't turn out ok.