Sharing with The Sunday Muse #195 . Come and share! When it blew out the candle, It began to speak, voice low, eyes dimmer than flame. Jenn believed, once upon a childhood (she's still there... but it's waning), it inhaled fire. Spines, tonight. Gears ladder bones and metal and plastic, all that lived, rungs to heaven. Heaven is a level of space where you can't breathe so they used to send the dead. When the flame goes, it takes our memories with it. But not bot files. Maybe it believes she'll sleep easier if bots go breathless, too. It continues murmuring and she pretends she's hearing a confession in a box Like the song her mother plays when the dark stretches between signals We can handle shocks. She can handle the dark, the small not-flame of its eyes. It's finally winter!! Which means bitmapped frost on the roofs, cold mornings, and a table full of succulents that are pretty much glaring at me because the kitchen window isn't the same as full su...
Luv that you challenge us to ponder with your opening Line.
ReplyDeleteHappy Sunda Chrissa. Thanks for dropping by my blog today
Much💛love
I choose to remain in this place of beauty ..... a lovely poem, Chrissa.
ReplyDeleteTo stay or to leave - you leave us an enticing choice.
ReplyDeleteOh. Chrissa this is absolutely gorgeous!! I love the invitation to make such a lovely choice!
ReplyDeleteThe cleansing light in the Chapel calls, nicely told, Chrissa.
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Why do you think the chapel is empty? That hits the reader immediately wondering why? If only light could cleanse this world of all the madness.
ReplyDeleteThat opening question doesn't let go of the reader, even past the last line. You give the challenge and the choice with such directness, it's inescapable, and inviting at the same time. Yeah, I'll choose the chapel.
ReplyDeleteYou caught me at that first line. Love "this cell of honey and umber".
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