(Ten minutes or less, 250 words or less. This week, the inspiration comes from a poem, “The Disillusionment of Ten O’Clock” by Wallace Stevens.)
The last thing I saw was rain. Or drops of it, anyway. I mostly remember one sparkling bead shivering on the green tip of the yellow-veined magnolia leaf. Since then, it’s only been rings and splashes of the fireworks behind my eyelids and even still when I open them wide. I see no specific shapes or faces I recognize or the wink from daddy or the familiar loping gait of momma when she approaches with the salve. I’m starting to know her by smell, instead. Sometimes, if I concentrate extra hard, I swear I can make out a ghost in lace but I’ve mostly stopped trying. Instead, I dive toward this new blackness to see what’s in there, feeling like I have no tether to the periwinkle stars that engulf me. I’m floating and I’m terrified. But I’m thrilled and excited all the same.
3 responses so far ↓
1 San Diego Momma // Jun 17, 2008 at 9:17 pm
*Sigh*
(That’s all)
Just *sigh*
2 Cheri @ Blog This Mom! // Jun 17, 2008 at 10:07 pm
Holy Wow!
3 bonzize // Jun 18, 2008 at 5:06 pm
Lovely - so visual it engaged me very quickly.
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