for sad winter metaphors.
a hard enough leaving
in her crumpled fist:
dry and caustic and
eager to flame. like
tracing flowers in bleach,
like soaking cattails in gasoline.
This entry was posted on September 5, 2012 by joanna. It was filed under dverse, life, poetry, thoughts, writing and was tagged with autumn, fall, flowers in bleach, love gone wrong, season change, summer.
Thank you. This brought me up from a dark place … feeling, smelling, seeing…really needed 🙂
September 5, 2012 at 7:57 pm
happy my words were able to help in the tiniest bit, Eva. 🙂 hugs!
September 6, 2012 at 12:53 pm
Nice write, Joanna.
September 5, 2012 at 8:49 pm
wow….cattails in gasoline and flowers in bleach….vivid and intense in your close…tight imagery in the crumpled up fist too…
September 5, 2012 at 10:37 pm
thanks, b. strangely, i took some of those images from my analytics– they were phrases searched to get to my site here, though i had never remembered using them. so i thought i would. smiles.
September 6, 2012 at 1:20 pm
great imagry in a short yet punchy little gem .
September 5, 2012 at 11:29 pm
*bows slightly* thanks, Jacquie.
September 6, 2012 at 1:21 pm
Thank you! Don’t let autumn pass by too quickly! It’s the most nuanced (and my favorite) season. Beautiful, fierce writing here. – Moskowitz
September 6, 2012 at 1:05 pm
thanks for the wise words, dear Mosk. it’s my favorite time of year as well. 🙂
September 6, 2012 at 1:28 pm
Lovely stuff, the crumpled fist perfect imagery.
September 6, 2012 at 1:50 pm
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