WARP Words piled up against walls, or words toppling under cubicle doors flat-packed words in fax machines, sifted through telephones, lined up in emails or upright in train queues with rucksacks and smiles. Open wounds - flesh and muscle words bubbling hearts and glowing cauldrons; words undid them, words unhid them, spilling beauty and bandages, fragile as peach skin, showing their bruises tender as thumb pads on each other's cheeks WEFT Back catalogues scrolling, licked fingers, flicked pages forked tongues and paper cuts, the sting and the forgetting. Tiny scars in tipsy towers, shoved away to shadowed corners. In-the-stacks shelf words, and words-on-ice, words in the mirror bouncing back. Prim ladies at tea parties, bland cucumber sandwich words, nodding words heavy headed, roses in vases, on fragile stems careful, prudent, sage words, more polite than manners words, stiff finishing school, starched napkin words. Goodbyes like damp kindling, brittle and bare, they leave unlit. Old words, like exhaust fumes, an acrid trail inside them.
Submitted for Earthweal’s Open Link Weekend #77