It hatched out of a stone thrown

 

It hatched out of a stone thrown

It hatched out of a stone thrown

Branko Miljkovic

It is small and clumsy, newly

Hatched, yet its teeth are sharp already. You can see a whisp of smoke coming

Out of its nostrils. Too late to disown it. It has claimed you now.

Of all the things you could have chosen to build a poem, you had to pick

A red fruit full of words that burned your tongue. You pretended you had nothing to do with the 

Stone you found inside, though you could hear cursing from within. Words like that carelessly 

Thrown around will find their way back to their creator. You cannot pretend the poem is not yours. It even looks like you now.

GloPoWriMo Day 6 - an acrostic that reproduces a phrase with the first words of each line

I used Branko Miljkovic's Sonnet about the bird