
Today’s Worku round takes on ALOHA — a word that can wave you in and send you away in the same breath. The stronger poems make use of that doubleness rather than simply placing Hawaii in the scenery. Debbie’s garden poem turns ALOHA into a tiny succession drama: chard takes the lead while lettuce receives its farewell. Elsewhere, anvils fall, waves rise, bets turn smug, and one empty bed quietly changes the temperature of the whole set. A few of these goodbyes are wearing disguises.