for sad winter metaphors.
september holds
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.
-
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the tenth muse 
Thank you. This brought me up from a dark place … feeling, smelling, seeing…really needed 🙂
happy my words were able to help in the tiniest bit, Eva. 🙂 hugs!
Nice write, Joanna.
thanks, girl!
wow….cattails in gasoline and flowers in bleach….vivid and intense in your close…tight imagery in the crumpled up fist too…
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.
great imagry in a short yet punchy little gem .
*bows slightly* thanks, Jacquie.
Thank you! Don’t let autumn pass by too quickly! It’s the most nuanced (and my favorite) season. Beautiful, fierce writing here. – Moskowitz
thanks for the wise words, dear Mosk. it’s my favorite time of year as well. 🙂
Lovely stuff, the crumpled fist perfect imagery.
Anna :o]