All he wanted
was the gentle lapping
of inner blankness,
the relief of needles,
pricked,
to abide in
the comforting quiescence
and devour the remnants
of hollow-boned
corporeality
now quietly still.
Never mind.
Trifextra Prompt:
This weekend we are playing another type of word game with you. Below are photos from the 33rd page of one of our very favorite books, Elizabeth Strout's Olive Kitteridge. What we want you to do is to scour the page (click to enlarge), choose 33 words, and reshape those words into a piece of your own. Your piece does not have to tell an entire story. We just want to see what you can do with this particular word bank. Punctuation is up to you. Use whatever you need, whether or not it appears in the photos.
