I'm still quite ill, so I went searching for inspiration and found it in the internet. Specifically, this is thanks to the Language Is A Virus "Random Line Generator", from which I got:
"cherries mist lemonade ice water kisses antiquewhite [which I
interpreted as two separate words] glass black emerald faded" this time.
This is what happened (yes, I cheated two of the words into the title... what?!), in all its curious glory:
Your drink curls and spumes,
Cresting obsessively
Around the thick, slanting walls
And unnecessary cherries.
Your gaze is drawn into the whirlpool,
Not even tracking the ice,
Just pulled to the eddying centre
My teeth are dissolving
Under three half-pints
Of lemonade,
Waiting.
Occasionally watching
The insolent bob of lime
I am resisting metaphor,
Staving off allegory
You are swaying,
Fingers sticky,
Looking like someone
Who's dissolved syntax,
And is aiming, next,
For balance.
It is twenty-seven minutes
Since I checked my watch.
A clever antique
Worth checking.
If I hold it up,
I'll hear the dependable
Clips of silence
Slicing through
The jars of chatter.
I take a breath
Hold it
Release,
Crease and flex fingers
That itch for action,
To match feet
And tick
And heart.
"Not yet", I tell them.
We're waiting for the mist
To kiss his brow,
We're waiting for
That tell-tale quiver,
Not long now.
We're waiting for the final
Fade to black.
No comments:
Post a Comment