Slit (11/30)


The prompt for day eleven over at NaPoWriMo was to write a poem in which you closely describe an object or place, and then end with a much more abstract line that doesn’t seemingly have anything to do with that object or place, but which, of course, really does



The sharpness
of the blade glistens
like a chrome sun;
its edge dancing
on a tightrope of
sin and salvation.

It grazes my wrist
then I watch blood
pour from veins like
a sangria sunrise;

amazing how
brightly light
shines when things
come to an end. 





 © 2016 abruvanamedsly

 



 

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