Wow I’m really excited I did not expect that many people to show me love with regards to that writing prompt
Orange blossom, daffodil, queen anne's lace
I’m not worried or terribly invested in manipulating the gender or appearance of any of my future children
They’re all going to be ridiculously good looking, with perfect hair obv
They’re also all going to be terribly precocious and contrarian. *sigh*
The most thoughtful present I have ever received was my engagement ring. A close second was Flowers for Algernon. A close third was a Catbird sewn in cross stitching and framed for me by a coworker this Summer.
I actually prefer wrapping presents to carving pumpkins. I love aesthetics; it’s easier for me to cleanly control folding paper and tying string than it is for me to wield a butcher’s knife through 4-inch-thick pumpkin pulp.
I think gauze wound
around ankle, plaster poured
into a chest-shaped mold.
I think wet cement.
I say stone, and you think pebble
in stream or marble fountain or kimberlite.
I say gravel or grave
or ask me later. There are days
I mourn being built from this. Made
of so much aggregate
and gravestone, so little
diamond and fountain water.
When I was a construction crane
my balled fists
toppled buildings of boys.
I rifled through the pockets
of their ruins.
Ask what I’ve been. Detroit
is a stretch of highway littered
a boy picking the remains
of a window from his hair.
I say Detroit;
you think glass.
I say glass; you think atrium;
I say atrium beams
warped by heat;
think cathedral. My shoe soles
say stain. Glass between treads,
treads imprinted on gum.
Everything finds its bottom,
say the sewers.
Don’t come any closer,
begs a map of collapsed veins,
while the burnt-out colonial,
this empty lot,
and this alley-dark cavity
all say the shelter is sparse, yes,
but there is space here for bones—
a ribcage, brimming like yours.