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Literature Text
The furnace finally shut off and I'm left listening to the house whisper moans,
the silence broken just enough for me to remember I'm alone.
The stairs creak an invitation, and soft bed sheets beg to caress my bare skin.
I'm almost ready, but it kicked on again.
A distraction. Daylight holds me here.
It's off.
My mind wanders to the weight of the down comforter;
it could be laid atop me, pressing feather-direction.
It's on, its hot breath encircling me;
warming limbs, competing for my attention.
Its rhythmical cycles remind me of sharp, flesh-covered jetties,
rocking against waves meant for shorelines.
It's off, and I'm off to encase myself in soft Egyptian tombs
and await the offerings of the afterlife.
--
12/5/2013
Copyright © 2013 Jen Fowler
All Rights Reserved
the silence broken just enough for me to remember I'm alone.
The stairs creak an invitation, and soft bed sheets beg to caress my bare skin.
I'm almost ready, but it kicked on again.
A distraction. Daylight holds me here.
It's off.
My mind wanders to the weight of the down comforter;
it could be laid atop me, pressing feather-direction.
It's on, its hot breath encircling me;
warming limbs, competing for my attention.
Its rhythmical cycles remind me of sharp, flesh-covered jetties,
rocking against waves meant for shorelines.
It's off, and I'm off to encase myself in soft Egyptian tombs
and await the offerings of the afterlife.
--
12/5/2013
Copyright © 2013 Jen Fowler
All Rights Reserved
Literature
Goodbye
i didn’t fall in love with you
until your skin was already grey and i
had to tell you what the weather was like
since you couldn’t leave your bed.
i didn’t mind long nights in the hospital
because making you laugh brought a warmth
to my cheeks that burnt hotter than a
forest fire, you never laughed at me for blushing
i snuck you in alcohol and forbidden foods
and pushed you around in that rusted wheel chair,
and all the nurses looked at us with
miserable eyes that said more than the doctors
would ever tell me.
naively i thought it was good news
when you said they were sending you home; but
when i saw you strewn across
Literature
a situation in which i do not survive
i was a lake whipped
into a fever pitch, a localised
hurricane in the wake of something
greater. the world was ending
and i dreamt of you while it was
still turning, a mess of bodies and
kisses. i dreamt of you still
when it ended, a slow dance
of crooked smiles and offshore
eyes. you kept me close and if
i was ever a source of happiness
or preoccupation
or horror
for you, i could let go.
Literature
Moving On
“No.” It was all I could say, taking in the carnage of what had just last night been my pristine kitchen. I wanted to collapse onto a chair, but they – and our spacious table – were covered in miscellany. Cleaning supplies, random knick-knacks from the living room, a thermometer, a scale. It was all there, strewn about.
My legs were shaking, and I fought the urge to cry. So messy. So dirty. No, no, no. I collapsed onto the shoe bench in between the Franco Sarto and the Gucci. I don't know where Giesswein had gone. I wished I could blame it on burglars, but no.
“She's doing it again!” I called, and my husb
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Kairos /'kI-ros/ (KYE-ross, English); /kEr-‘os/ (keer-OSS, Greek)
Greek
(n.) The perfect, delicate, crucial moment;
the fleeting rightness of time and place
that creates the opportune atmosphere for
action, words, or movement; also, weather
© 2013 - 2024 BeyondJen
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