Naming each post is mad pressure #NaPoWriMo (day 2)

So I tried to switch it up this year and name each post, it’s only day 2 and I am already thinking “who told me?” As of this moment I am still trying to find the true name of this poem, I feel like Eragon in that sense. It’s so fun to see so many different poets choosing to do NaPoWriMo this year. Follow @AnnaCarlaKahn on twitter for your daily dose of her poetry, she’s on tings this NaPo. Happy Birthday Amina Jama, you’re sensational!

So this still nameless poem is a response of sorts to Omar Bynon’s poem, I Go for Long Walks Now in this years Barbican Young Poets anthology. He, is my fire poet recommendation for today. I’d really really like you to go and read that poem, (preferably before reading this one), it’s a beautiful poem. It’s genuine, vulnerable, and poetically excellent, one of my favourites in the collection. Here is a link to the pdf of the collection, you’ll find his poem on PDF page 7 (of 27). Big up Omar, you’ll find him @Sherlock_Omez on twitter. Here’s my poem for today, named hence…

Clipper
after ‘I Go for Long Walks Now’ by Omar Bynon

I don’t smoke. But I keep a lighter in my room.
It’s green. I confiscated it from a friend.
An awkward smile of graveyard yellow.

I told myself that life is a race, and this is me doing something about cheating.
I know that life and death is a divine science, one I am poorly schooled in.

I am still making equations of crosses and is trying to multiply my blessings.
I cannot read my teachers red ink, I think it says “DONT FORGET ABOUT GRICE!

I am often the last person to leave, after being the first to say goodbye.

Being last is not so bad, being left alone is.
It’s like when water evaporates from damp clothing.
Each droplet leaves with handfuls of heat.
People are like droplets, one by one they pass.
I confiscate fire because I do not want the cold.

I played with the lighter when I got home.
Burnt away the memory of my friend.
Forgot who’s lighter it was.
Caused that bridge to fall in on itself.

Tomorrow I will offer this plastic fire maker to a friend.
Tell him how I inadvertently used it to burn bridges.
He will smile, close my offering hand, then hug me.

I read from his torso the words I was trying to show.
Tighten my fist to forget the cold,
then practice his words with my chest.

I just want my friends to be okay.

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