Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Microstories: Temper Tantrum

Tiny
orange tendrils
unfurl from
my wronged belly,
coiling
spirals
that undulate
below
the surface
of my pale skin.
It doesn't ever
matter that
my own flesh
is burned,
or that the
conflagration
turns everything
to ashes. 
I become incandescent
with rage.





11 comments:

  1. The burning, the pain, the rage ... You captured it so well

    ReplyDelete
  2. Love it, Tina! I mean, if you're gonna have a temper tantrum, why bother with anything less than incandescence?

    ReplyDelete
  3. It sounds so poetic and almost lovely within your words. I keep seeing my son's face and know I get scared when I see it coming. ;)

    But your words are simply perfect to describe it.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Such emotion! You took me there. Love the "wronged belly." Good writing, Tina!

    ReplyDelete
  5. I have been consumed with rage like that before...you have captured it really well!

    ReplyDelete
  6. A consuming fire, rage, captured. Well done!

    ReplyDelete
  7. I loved reading your 'about me' section. It is so touchy..I felt like that while you wrote it, you pulled up the pieces together and formed the whole of yourself...

    ReplyDelete
  8. A great explication of that kind of bubbling rage!

    ReplyDelete
  9. No, it never matters at the moment if you burn up and turn to ashes. That is rage. I know it. You captured it very poetically.

    ReplyDelete
  10. I love the way you spaced this out, slowly building tension and passion and fire word by word. And "incandescent with rage"! I really like that. Maybe because it's all too familiar. I used to be quite fiery!

    ReplyDelete

I welcome comments, but reserve the right to correct your spelling because I am OCD about it!