Today's dual prompts from Poetic Asides and NaPoWriMo: (1) Write a "violence" and/or "peaceful" poem, and (2) write a poem that is a reworking of a famous poem. The example that NaPoWriMo gave is the same poem I decided to use, just because it spoke to me so strongly. Plus, it already had a little element of violence built into it to satisfy the Poetic Asides prompt. (Here's the original poem.) Don't worry: this one is meant to be more satirical than prophetic.
Papers on Top of More Papers
(after “Black Stone Lying on a White Stone” by César Vallejo)
I will die in a cubicle, on a sunny day,
a day as ordinary as any other, maybe in autumn.
I will die in a cubicle in the middle of a project
probably on a Tuesday, a day much like today.
It might be a Wednesday, come to think of it.
I will think it’s writer’s cramp, but it will spread
up my arm to my brain, the neurons exploding
like fireworks, my tongue lolling in my mouth.
Poor Bruce. Worked all his life. Maybe we shouldn’t
have given him so much to do. Maybe we shouldn’t
have used that cat-o’-nine-tails on him so much.
There are no witnesses, just the vacation posters
tacked to the inside walls of my space. And it’s
a Tuesday or Wednesday, and it’s just begun to cloud up.