(Why I Don't Write) Poems (Anymore)

They started off as
pinches of gunpowder
and a few crumbs of gravel
bundled together in a paper twist
and flung at the pavement
to snap, snap,
sending spasms of delight rippling
through the bodies of
the giggling children.
Now, all that remains
are burst paper scraps
plastered to the wet sidewalk
like gray, soggy petals
dropped from some
exploding blossom.