Writing Exercise #12
Let's use a "ghost line," shall we?
"There is a winged-woman kneeling in the corner of the room."
Her face is a jittery hare torn out of its fur.
The bottom of her dress is pinned beneath
one of the machines, but she does not seem to care.
We sit in the blue room together. The news anchor
is done up in lipstick and crime as the roses are dying of thirst.
There is a baby screaming down the hall,
and my old body hears her.
My breasts sulk in the trash can, shriveled
- - -
(From an image by the artist, Snik.)