No good. Balancing on snow. Translate: violence begets eggshells floating down gutters. I heard you called last winter. I was out to sea. The evaporation of milk. Tracing the outlines of strangers.
Posted by: corisa | October 22, 2008
No good.
Posted in Drama | Tags: 32 word short story, balancing act, brevity, flash fiction, no good, out to sea, prose poetry
I have walked across fields of snow without breaking the sun-iced crust. Eggshells are fertilizer; the ground springs richer after the fact. Sea phones don’t ring. Milky strangers trace my outline.
By: zxvasdf on October 24, 2008
at 1:26 pm