Saturday, January 30, 2016

Mooring


The Morgue File
Watered
by Quicksandala


she passed me twice
head nodding
to some inner conversation
that only she could hear
lips curved their replies
wrapped in ribbons
around her ears

moored, in kelp beds so tangled
her ganglia
drifting across currents
only she can feel

fastening rag to bench
a tying off of ropes
rocked her gently
toward the dock where she had landed

pulling off bits
of rag or skin
I am not sure which.


copyright/all rights reserved

Friday, January 8, 2016

The Thief



The Morgue File


He held her up, wringing out
those bits that she clung to
littering the sidewalk
with her shine.

Unfolding himself
he mopped up
and wondered how much more
of her he could find
hanging around the bus stop.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2016


This is where a prompt on spontaneity took me today--unexpectedly dark write for me!