While reading some online journals last night, I came across this line in the submission guidelines for Prick of the Spindle: “Speaking of fresh, please no cicadas, pomegranates, or babushkas.”
That led me to this draft. Enjoy.
No cicadas, pomegranates, or babushkas. No hearts like birds in the cage of the ribs. No sirens, no muses, no ravens, no bees. No moonlight pooling on the cold concrete. No mention of tears in the same breath as rain. No dust dancing in the filtered light. No dripping showers, no swirling drains. No sparks or cinders, no blazing fires.No branches entangled, no flurries of wings. No palms or fists or clutching fingers. No crumpled sheets. No junkie sweats. No hospital bedsides. No bedsores, no veins.No soaring or wailing or gnashing of teeth. No chaos, no nightmares, no dark abyss.No eyes that hold ice or throw daggers. No shoulders too white or silken or cold. No drifting or gloaming or fallow fields. No blood on the snow or the porcelain sink.