D is for Donna who bit through a wire

D is for Donna who bit through a wire
04/08/2008 - National Poetry Month post #8, part of The Unlucky Twenty-Six

When Donna Donata was left on her own,
her mom told her, "Don't you dare answer the phone!
And lock all the doors, and keep out of sight.
You never know who might be lurking at night."

She left Donna dinner of chili and pone
and also dessert of one ice cream cone,
and when Donna finished, she got quite a fright--
the power went out, and out when the light.

There wasn't a storm, the wind didn't moan,
the reason for blackout was truly unknown,
so Donna decided to set things aright
and ventured outside with her little flashlight.

To the fuse box she went and the light on it shone;
it was clear that the fuse to the house had not blown.
So it must have been Marrow Moor Power & Light,
some glitch in their wires, some system-wide blight.

When she got back inside, she was not all alone;
something grabbed on and held by her left anklebone,
and she tripped thinking "Well, that sure wasn't polite!"
It never occurred she should put up a fight.

To a room she was dragged, on a bed was she thrown,
and a voice in her ear sang in cool undertone,
"Now just be a good girl and go nighty-night,"
and a cord round her body was wound super tight.

"I'm a thief," said the voice in a deep baritone,
"and I'm not here to hurt you, but I won't postpone
my work which I came to accomplish tonight."
To Donna, he sounded quite sad and contrite.

When he left, Donna gave only one little groan
as she lay on the bed, tied in wires and prone.
Then she struggled and wriggled with all of her might
til one of the cords she was able to bite.

At that moment, far off, a big switch was thrown
and poor Donna got zapped in a burst of ozone
as the power came on and lit up every light
including the one she had happened to bite.

One of my writing goals for 2008 is to write at least one light verse or poem every week in addition to my haiku wednesday and fiction friday posts. I will try to do this on Mondays.