For today’s prompt, take the phrase “The (blank) Who (blank),” replace the blanks with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: “The Runner Who Walked,” “The Scientist Who Decided to Make a Monster,” “The Poet Who Loved Me,” and/or “The Teacher Who Couldn’t Learn.” If you’d prefer to write about a thing instead of a person, feel free to replace the word “who” with the word “that.”


The Abstract Painter Who Closed Her Eyes

I suppose I could paint
without seeing

What does it matter in the end?

The way I dance around, insist on the spontaneous.

Just put the colored oil goo in my hand
Blindfold me and set me in the right direction.

What about this matters anymore
or ever did?

What image would do good work?

I think I'll go sit by a dirt pile
with a bucket of water

imagine / make a city there, in a muddy puddle,
deluged, the citizens calling from their rooftops.

I feel the clay dirt like a sculptor, eyes closed.
The mud has meaning.

Before waiting too long, I break the levee myself,
above the town, where it's safe.

I create an overspill. I feel it.
My gesture matters,
the water draining away from the drowning thousands.

I open my eyes when I hear their joyful cries
of survival
and hope.

I know no more now
than I did when I was nine.