Read the following poem by Anne Sexton (The Fury of Sunsets) Something cold is in the air, an aura of ice and phlegm. All day I've built a lifetime and now the sun sinks to undo it. The horizon bleeds and sucks its thumb. The little red thumb goes out of sight. And I wonder about this lifetime with myself, this dream I'm living. I could eat the sky like an apple but I'd rather ask the first star: why am I here? why do I live in this house? who's responsible? eh? Notice that the poem ends with questions. In praise of poems that ask questions, our writing session today will require us to craft a poem that asks a question at the end. Please write your poem in 15 lines max. See you later 🫠 Tag us with