Alpha-Bits cereal for breakfast,
what does it spell in your spoon?
It could be almost anything
because nothing means much yet,
except the letters in your own name.
There’s an A, a Y—the X doesn’t belong,
but you acknowledge it anyway,
its jumping-jack arms and legs,
how it shouts, or seems to,
as it tumbles around and around
and around.

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This month, I’m doing the Poetic Asides Poem a Day Chapbook Challenge. Today’s prompt was to write an alpha poem.