Friday, 2 August 2013

Things that feel like rain

First drop loops from children conducting sparklers. Testing testing one two three; a sniper's lead; a spoon of ice cream. Made-it, breathe, made-it, breathe, made-it-safe-finisheddonerelief.

Shower tracks of a lover learning your body. Head tilting back in the hairdresser's sink, feet freed from ski boots. The delicate veil of deciding to trust.

Phantom rain when dark and heat-red meet in unreciprocated desire.

Rain crashes saucepans into the cupboard. It's surrender, it's survival. The wail of people forcing their priorities; the door slam full stop.

Clearing doors open in Arrivals, anywhere. Hand on the waist ready to waltz. A floor-to-ceiling window, cinnamon buns, cotton sheets, a camera. A very first step.

Response to writing prompt from @sarahselecky

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