I apologize for the lack of posts this week. On Monday I had a king-sized headache, and on Tuesday I took photographs instead.
Back to our regularly-scheduled busting of writer’s block! This prose poem is courtesy of my spam folder.
“Too busy to go back to school?” she huffed, dangling the highball glass between thumb and ring-finger. Ice cubes clacked. “I should have seen it coming.” And with that I remembered why I hated her, that slick brow over flat eyes. She went to wakes but never funerals, something about the smell of turned earth, of coffins. I was a replica watch on her wrist, telling time while never knowing how late it was. “You can trick the nature and make a monster of your timid animal.” I fantasized about the heft of the paperweight on her desk. She’ll never be disappointed again.
[Want to help me bust through my writer’s block this month? Read about this exercise!]