by Elizabeth Koopman
Wild Poetry Forum
First Place, September 2020
Judged by Ron Singer

This old, small saucepan
comes to my hand
every morning, to boil my egg.

So, this morning, after I heard
that you have tried to die, again,
here it is,
copper bottom rough with use
smooth inner walls,
And the earth settles
under my feet.

This matter-of-fact, very short poem (46 words) pithily hints at a full, dramatic story: someone is dying, perhaps at their own hand (“tried to die, again”). But habit dies hard, and the narrator finds the pot in which she always boils her morning egg. And that dear, mundane object (“copper bottom rough with use/smooth inner walls/friendly”) somehow makes the world right for him/her. “Love” is a very original poem. Its compression creates a powerful effect. --Ron Singer