March is halfway gone, and there are only two weeks left to submit work! Attack your writing like Caesar’s friends attacked him on the Senate floor, then send it in!
Meanwhile, here’s your poem of the day:
“The Ides of March” by H. C. Long
Just as, amid cabals of his treacherous court,
Suspecting each rich curtain of a knife,
A king broods heavily,
Even so, aware that flesh and bone are restless
With secret news and undefined intention,
Sits on his shaking throne my winter soul.