NEUTRALIZER

The poet agreed to kill poetry every single day and did peculiarly well.  Some poets die themselves or go kinda numb after making the neutralizer deal.  This poet thrived.  A hard worker, there was a clause in her contract that she would continue to write.  She promised to extract every flicker of poetry before publication.  Sometimes, life being life and poetry poetry, a ripple, a gust of quickness jumped in.  She recognized it at once, smiled and excised.  If she was feeling down, which happened, she let it be for a while, completing her day’s work and coming back to it later, maybe at dusk, patiently reading before patiently deleting.  It is an adjustment, she thought, like everything.