Poetry: Ten O’Clock News

By Megan Robb

I wish I could say it was hand delivered a letter that slipped between my fingers and onto the floor where the broken news lay in jagged fragments around me as I raised my hands to my face and fell forward to my knees in one slow fluid grieving motion like some archaic ballet tragedy I wish I could claim a conclusive flourish worthy of a stage to accompany everything I could never say but instead I blinked at unfeeling images on a screen a typically unsatisfying performance of reality a strangely choreographed dance.

 Contributing writer Megan Robb is a writer, consultant and editor living in Raleigh, North Carolina. Her articles can be found at divot.com, wordhusterink.com, and cracked.com, as well as her personal website, megan-robb-writer.webs.com