8/30

4/8/13

From Rachel McKibben's rad writing exercise for today.  http://rachelmckibbens.blogspot.com/


Here,
in the room of my life
a vial of donated blood
sits upended on the desk,
leaking a slow drip onto
the hungry carpet.  It pools
over a stain set since the
beginning. A corduroy
chair with arms like dead
sea lions has been pushed
into an awkward angle, a
snake sleeping on its faded
cushion, eyes open because
everyone knows snakes don't
have eyelids. There's a
hummingbird clearing its ruby
throat against the drawn
window curtains, wings beating
so fast I might lose my mind.
I do.  I'm fine. I put the rubberband
gun under the bed in a box with
striped ribbons, but it's gone now.
The girl with crooked eyes held
it against her head and said "Bang!"
right before she opened the curtains
and turned into the sun.