that toothy vortex

138 Pieces

I wrote this yesterday under the influence of twin tornadoes
While hiding under the bed with my grandmother and dog
I planned a funeral as mattresses, pans and medicines strafed the air
I saw my brother’s arm impaled on a jagged rafter
The grey-green sky draped like humid laundry above
I heard telephone poles snap in succession like cannon fire
Fred, from next door, called for Annie as he flew by among the shingles and sharp detritus
A dishwasher smashed into my one remaining bedroom wall
Splintered it in 138 pieces, and disappeared into that toothy vortex…

“Boys had nothing better to do than to hold onto their dreams with what they didn’t yet realize was desperation.”

— Matthew Salesses / I’m Not Saying, I’m Just Saying

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
This entry was posted in Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s