NaPoWriMo 2013, Day 7: Write a poem in which each line is a declarative sentence, except the last which should be a question.
There’s a book, spine unbroken, hanging out on the shelf.
There are hardbound novels in untidy stacks.
There’s a lighter lying under an overturned ash tray.
There are cigarettes, cremated, spilling unto the floor.
There’s a bottle, emptied, rolling about.
There are glasses on the bedside table.
There’s a shoe by the door.
There are three others, discarded, everywhere else.
There’s an empty wrapper under the bed.
There are its contents, used and wet, atop the trash in the bin.
There’s a shirt, wrinkled, on the sheets.
There are clothes in heaps around the room.
There’s a low moan, muffled, going on and off.
There are too many places I’ve looked—where the hell is my phone?