Ashes

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: June 26, 2017

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Submitted: June 26, 2017

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Sometimes I paint

and use every last drop out of the tube

and go through 10 brushes.

 

Then I use my fingers

and I find broken pieces of mirror 

and add the bird feather I saw in the yard

 swirling it all around and let it dry.

 

Then I take it outside

and put in in the center of the rock circle

firepit

and strike one of those matches you can ignite with a fingernail

and l let it burn

and I watch it

and smell the fumes

and see the oils melt

and hear the colors crackle 

one shape

one resolve.

 

Sometimes I write and I use every word I can think of

or words I never use

and go through 10 drafts.

 

Then I use my eyes

and imagine it differently from what I meant it to mean

and I think about reading it at a wedding 

or reading it at a funeral

and reading out loud to no one 

or reading it out loud to everyone

and then I put it back

and place in the center of the rocky circle

firepit.

 

And I strike one of those matches that you can ignite with a keystroke

and I let it burn

and I watch it all go away

and erase the memory

delete it so i can longer read it or see it ever again

until it melts and the oils blend into one color

one shape 

one resolve

 

And, then I start over.


© Copyright 2017 Dr. Acula . All rights reserved.

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