Some kids are frightened by their mothers

7th October 2009

1.
I wade the water up to my waist. I’m shark bait. A plume of wispy pink wafts from behind me like a dissipating eel.

2.
I am standing in line at the altar. A trickle straddles the inside of my leg like a shy retiring child.

3.
There is a small coagulated mass spreading outwards in the middle of my white ceramic dinner plate: shiny, the color of chocolate syrup, the outline of a misshapen silver dollar pancake. I fork around in it dispassionately.

4.
My fingers come up slippery and smell oxygenated. The white cotton string peeks out like a thin, wine-stained tongue.

5.
Through the dirt I leave a dark, dank trail in my wake. The dry ground slurps.

6.
I turn to look behind me like the Coppertone girl. I’m being chased across the courtyard by red puddles like so many stepping stones.

6 responses

  1. Jim Murdoch comments:

    Some very effective imagery in this one especially 1. and 2.

  2. Ani Smith comments:

    Yeah, except for that comma in number 2. It’s pissing me off now. (Cheers, Jim.)

  3. Ani Smith comments:

    There. Feels better.

  4. Loopholes comments:

    i love it! its intimate, honest and beautiful

  5. Ani Smith comments:

    Cheers, Loopy!

  6. isabelle comments:

    I like this a lot, in a dark Grimm’s way. But you know, there’s something about bleeding that I love, in a my body is working kind of way that’s elemental and corporeal and bawdy.

Leave a comment