Monday, 23 July 2012

Irreversible temptations

She felt something unravel within her like the unfurling of a dozen Persian carpets, threads glinting in the dust, wondering which it would take to be able to fly.

Responsibilities niggled her like small red ants. Pfft. What a way to sully this baked grass summer afternoon—a funeral spilling into the wake. She harrumphed the harrumph of eleven anteaters and it echoed and by the time the noise stopped bouncing, all the responsibilities were gone.

Irreversible temptation. Like slipping the last cable tie through itself just to hear the click.

Oh Jane. Oh Jane. You cannot trick the universe with scissors and a three-leafed clover.

Her lower lip quivers like the pouted red shell of a ladybird preparing for flight. I watch, fascinated, and wait for a scaly, sinewy wing to unfold.

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