This week’s selection.
Yes, I recognize you:
we’ve met before –
in her memories.
a shadow of
a runaway cloud
passing along the ground
the small black clock
holds its hands up to its white face
I had a dream last night
involving my fleece blanket and
the polyester sheep
who objected to their exploitation
the gaps in the window blinds framed the view –
a row of garden gnomes across the street
leering at me. I snapped the blinds shut.
Did I already tell you this?
barrels in the warehouse
full and brimming over with
the monkey business we don’t have room for
here at home
the doctor said: fix this broken leg?
I might as well try to
splice together two cooked spaghetti noodles
That damaging assumption you made
I repair it
with a lucky guess
not necessarily the truth
we keep waiting
more shaken and faded each year
for the children to grow up
things have changed so much and now it is my turn:
I breathe out a juicy deep green envy
while the two of you giggle and kiss
five went out into the forest
only four of them returned
their bald heads steaming in the sunlight
a large pool. the smell of chlorine.
the cold water. the splash. I wait.
The stain dries and disappears.
wake up wake up wake up
the dropped tray shouted out
clashing cutlery and dashing dishes to the floor
an evening to relax
a begrudging host
the imposter a copy
on his way to becoming
an answer at my feet
written in the hot orange sand
oh yes it stutters oh yes
Tuesday and another neighbor’s living room another visit
My lungs breathing out fumes
set the curtains on fire Oh no not again.
3 thoughts on “Little Vines 6/24/21”
Lots of things being broken or damaged in this particular selection of Little Vines. As often is the case, I love the ones where my imagination wants to create the rest of the story around the snapshot. For example, the one about a group emerging from the forest missing one member feels like the jumping off point for a short story.
Some day, I think I will return to past LV and do just that, see if a story can come from some of them. Because I think the same thing, they often sound like they are stepping off into a narrative. One day, I will be ready to go along with them.
5011. is my favourite today. No kids, I’m doing the growing up.
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