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The Eclectic Pen - Vessel

By: Eva L. (wearetrees)   + 37 more  
Date Submitted: 7/10/2008
Last Updated: 7/11/2008
Genre: Literature & Fiction » General
Words: 261
Rating:

Raising me was like folding clothes into a suitcase, proudly fingering the fine lines. Like buying a ticket to the other side of town and pretending it was home, nothing like home, like heaven. Beautiful in the delicate act of disappearing, sharp elbows with their appurtenant arms sliding behind a living building, its bricks deep red, almost purple, bruised like the cheeks of fruit, tiny fermented martyrs. Raising me was like plotting escape, desiring space but capitulating to buoyancy, letting a little boat float on a little sea. The furrowed brow of my private fisherman. My succoring steed, round, powerful inside. I listened for the voice of snakes. Experience told me they hid in the guts, but I found them hibernating in my lies. I learned to strum the guitar, twisted my own neck so I could see. Black hair dangling. Seams in odd places. Raising me was like leveling the carpets of the journeyman's castle. My years a penance for the freedom of lakes to rise. I kept paper diaries and my longing had a predictable disguise. My body became an anchor for my thoughts. A thoughtful body. I pursued myself, thought if only I could scratch a hole here, I'd see a meadow. A slow light, a different crime, a disquiet. After I made love, alone or in company, I'd dream of giants in the sky, hands waving, dispersing the storm. Stealing bread. Sifting. Time lay in my bones like a silkworm, scraping honey out in fragrant heaps. My heart grew idle. Mad. My eyes led lives.

The Eclectic Pen » All Stories by Eva L. (wearetrees)

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