Wipe (an acrostic poem)

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Washing her hands of the situation, she put away the cleaning supplies.

It was far past the point of no return, but it would still be proper to make things tidy

Perhaps she could even burn a candle to help with the smell.

Except the police would be here soon, so it was time to be off.

Crease (an acrostic poem)

 

Cutting and tape would be cheating

Realize the Zen of proper folding

Elephants and cranes made of paper

As fingers show off their dexterity

Solemnly teasing out a third dimension from two

Evoking the surreal as its goal

 

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