Stalactite

I fashioned you, foraged through sandstone and ice. I found the flint, and struck it, thrice. You sparked a fire in the snow. And laid warm against the rock. Covered in caves beneath stalactites formed, you stirred. I held in my palm your tangible thing, its edges indenting my flesh. A fortnight passed. I wrote it out in sevens’ past, fiction, only in dusty hallways meant to last. In fiery and deity presumption, I made you flesh, and made you mine. I corrupted universal law and bent the matrix of mankind, and above. Your flesh my flesh, your voice my voice, your bones my bones, you said ” why?” I said ” love, don’t ask.”

Ballasts

The string is looped around a ballast on each end

When the ballasts are close to one another the string is loose, pliable in nature, easily pluckable

The sound it emits is a deeper, earthier sound, lower in tone, of a bass nature

The string is looped around a ballast on each end

When the ballasts are at a greater distance from one another, the string is taut and tight, inflexible, and may snap with the extreme stress of being pulled

The sound it emits is an ethereal sound, sometimes only heard by animals, and is of a high pitched nature

The string is looped around a ballast on each end

The ballasts are equal in foundation, strength, efficacy

The ballasts are aware of each other, and their positions in accordance with the string

The string is fragile, and only the ballasts can assume which musical tone it will take

The string is looped around a ballast on each end

I, Walked

I often walked.

In my youth. At dawn.

When the day breaks and birds chirp and flock to life.

I often walked.

To the ocean at midevening to sunset. The salty spray stinging my cheek.

I often walked.

At the first fallen snow the snap of cold rippling into my lungs.

I often walked.

Through the hot dusty roads or into the lush cavernous green.

I often walked.

And when I was told I may

never

walk

again

the ray of sun lost its warmth and a piece of my soul did die.

But still I often walked.  Maybe with a limp.

At the first twinkle of starlight.

I often walked to merryton, in my mind, a better Bennett sister inspired in kind.

I often walked in the springtime fragrant morning.

To find the flowers wild in bloom.

I often walked, to work then back again.

I often walked, to forage for caffeinated aromatic delight.

Kept it loose. I kept it free. But I often walked toward you, forever just

out

of

reach