For today’s prompt, write a trap poem.
I dug a hole with my verse,
covered it with a blanket of metaphor,
laid out a little picnic like a simile—
soft cheese, French bread and wine.
I stand nearby reading a chapbook
of poems with mere hints of eroticism
and recite in my best stentorian bass
until some innocent falls.
I put a pedestal down there,
tall enough for them to be perfect
in my poetry but not so high
that they could escape.
Besides, why would any woman
want to leave the pit of my love?