Meg Tuite July Day 1

Feathers Fall in Smoke

Over the hill of horizon the compass desert rose, cactus thorning north, south, east, and wick getting long as day as wax smokes and shrinks. An alcove candles devotion, everything that hope smote. A heavy door seals prayers combustible, an explosion of dove. The gun....

A Thousand Orchards

She listened with one eye. A comic verse of irregular measure. The thermostat set to fifty-four degrees. I don’t see a home, I see a butcher shop. I see naked rooms without furniture. Bathroom floor with bibles for tiles. A kitchen with last year’s calendar, colanders...

adolescence

My son holds a crocodile inside. A crocodile dwells inside my son, fully fledged, cajoling him to let go, to leave, to launch into orbit. Orbit the oozing bayou that offers him a fragment of freedom. Fragments of freedom lurk beneath the surface, and he is always...

Where Are We Going?

Meg - This doesn’t follow your fascinating prompt #4 at all, because I was so taken by the image of each sentence riding its own bus (and Garielle Lutz’s remarks about the intimacy of words in a sentence) that I had to follow it. I’m dying to write an alliterative...

My Legs Go to Sleep

In a mosaic of waters, sometimes I guide the undertaker’s cock inside me to flood the river, where my legs go to sleep as the undertaker gazes at the cemetery searching for creatures of midnight out the funeral-parlor windows of the blue-whale. Inside the enormous...

The Thief

1. Purposeless, as if I could fly away, aim toward the crystal moon. A sliver awaiting my arrival in a pale, porous evening sky. This silent retreat gliding on speculation, the web of solace promises sleep if nothing more. 2. First I stole your cloud, the overhanging...

Emotion Prompt: fear/nerves

One day I came home from school and found the front door to our house flung open. The lights inside were off, and Mom wasn’t in the kitchen, where she usually was. The familiar sound of novelas blasting on the TV was also absent, then I realized the TV itself was...

Fire Flight

Fire ignites in my gut, then flies off like geese in a flutter of wings. I watch and wait, warned by recollection. Introspection is my implement. So many faces, their eyes fraught and fevered, have wielded the power of presumption...

Feathers Fall in Smoke

Over the hill of horizon the compass desert rose, cactus thorning north, south, east, and wick getting long as day as wax smokes and shrinks. An alcove candles devotion, everything that hope smote. A heavy door seals prayers combustible, an explosion of dove. The gun....

A Thousand Orchards

She listened with one eye. A comic verse of irregular measure. The thermostat set to fifty-four degrees. I don’t see a home, I see a butcher shop. I see naked rooms without furniture. Bathroom floor with bibles for tiles. A kitchen with last year’s calendar, colanders...

adolescence

My son holds a crocodile inside. A crocodile dwells inside my son, fully fledged, cajoling him to let go, to leave, to launch into orbit. Orbit the oozing bayou that offers him a fragment of freedom. Fragments of freedom lurk beneath the surface, and he is always...

Where Are We Going?

Meg - This doesn’t follow your fascinating prompt #4 at all, because I was so taken by the image of each sentence riding its own bus (and Garielle Lutz’s remarks about the intimacy of words in a sentence) that I had to follow it. I’m dying to write an alliterative...

My Legs Go to Sleep

In a mosaic of waters, sometimes I guide the undertaker’s cock inside me to flood the river, where my legs go to sleep as the undertaker gazes at the cemetery searching for creatures of midnight out the funeral-parlor windows of the blue-whale. Inside the enormous...

The Thief

1. Purposeless, as if I could fly away, aim toward the crystal moon. A sliver awaiting my arrival in a pale, porous evening sky. This silent retreat gliding on speculation, the web of solace promises sleep if nothing more. 2. First I stole your cloud, the overhanging...

Emotion Prompt: fear/nerves

One day I came home from school and found the front door to our house flung open. The lights inside were off, and Mom wasn’t in the kitchen, where she usually was. The familiar sound of novelas blasting on the TV was also absent, then I realized the TV itself was...

Fire Flight

Fire ignites in my gut, then flies off like geese in a flutter of wings. I watch and wait, warned by recollection. Introspection is my implement. So many faces, their eyes fraught and fevered, have wielded the power of presumption...

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