We feel it.
The low tenor and shimmering soprano
it fills us with a teasing rhythm
Unbearable
Amidst the warmth of a shallow breeze
we dance
Kindled by a glimmer of fading fire
we writhe
With intent we make our way
from our warm bed in the grass
to climb together to alpine heights
nestled where we can best reach
The edge, the rim through which gods create
that dark abyss which sustains us
With an abrupt rush, we are lifted and consumed
There, the briefest glimmer of sparkling white
and we fall,
pushed by muscular cadence
Plunge. Float...
And finally pulled
Here we move,
Rostellum pierce the pitch
Then feverishly,
Happily
We rook our God
I intend this piece to be open to interpretation. This initially grew from an attempt to go beyond my comfort zone. I was provided key words that must be used to get credit for the assignment. From this I imagined that the reader would take the perspective of (one or many) tapeworm grub on their (its) journey (one I had imagined to be more a sacred pilgrimage) to a host in the hopes of being consumed.
Copyright ©2010-2013 Sean Winslow All Rights Reserved