Saturday, January 12, 2013
1.12
Seeming strange: the open lid of her head spilled secrets to me in a proliference of morbid curiosity reversed. I learned about her death and the maligned light of her afterlife, all the while conscious of squish and squelch. Sad, I stitched scalp and sewed smile until she, alone with her thoughts, built myriad castles in a dark, cold room.
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I especially like the unexpected reversal of "dark, cold" instead of the almost-cliche of "cold, dark."
ReplyDeleteAutopsy.
ReplyDeleteCorrect. And Katy, I didn't even think about that.
ReplyDeleteI wrote this one on accident and wrote the other on purpose.