Bring me to the place you’ve dreamed
of. The bed upstairs,
the raft in the cool, still lake.
//
Peach juice, sticky sweet, running
down my cheeks, my thighs.
Dab it with the linen sheet.
//
A current in the water
pulls the pit, spits it
on the beach. Another rock.
//
I want more days like this, please.
Swaying to a stop,
licking til it hurts your tongue.
//
Worry the sand in the crease.
Flip the table, if
you so hate the way it's set.
About the Creator
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Six Feet Under
Buried alive. What a horrible way to go. Yazz lay there, in her own thoughts. What else could she do? She was hungry, thirsty, tired, mentally, and physically exhausted, and more than anything, she was bored. She hoped she would die of boredom before anything else, anything else would've been more painful. Like many people had, she and her friends had talked about what they reckon the worst ways to die were, it was a morbid subject, but it came up every now and again. Yazz had always been one to argue her point on drowning, others had mentioned burning alive, slowly and painfully bleeding to death, hung drawn and quartered, and being starved to death. It was strange that none of them had considered being buried alive, it had never come up. But now, she was thinking back to those conversations her and her friends had had, how could they have not thought about it? It took a lot longer than the others, you were completely confined, you couldn't move or do anything, you just had to wait, until your body was physically unable to support a life system anymore, which could take up to four days. Four! By far the longest out of all of them. She recounted some of these conversations just to try and pass the time, anything to pass the time. It was difficult to know how much time had passed since she had been underground, it was difficult to know anything. There were many things that Yazz didn't know, she didn't know where she was, she didn't know how she'd got into the coffin, she'd just woken up there. Yazz also didn't know what time it was, or even what day it was, she guessed at Tuesday, it was Sunday evening when she'd been buried alive, intentionally, and although it had felt like weeks had passed, she was still alive, which means she hadn't died from dehydration, and therefore it couldn't have been more than four days.
By Liam Storm7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (10)
I love any poem that lifts the corners of my mouth and brings a smile to my face 🩷 great work ✨
Beautiful piece. Well done.
Such suggestiveness wrapped un in stickyness. Love it.
This was such great imagery, and now I want a peach!
These images are so vivid, Suze! It reminds me a bit of this photographer's work: https://susanworsham.net/-bittersweet-on-bostwick-lane---/1. Enjoyed it!
Alrighty, then! What an interesting twist and a fun read!
Ooooo, I love where this went, lol! Amazing work!
This was a fun read. I was not expecting that at all. LOL!
I wrote this poem while mulling over @Cendrine Marrouat's "Grains of Sand" Challenge, linked here: https://vocal.media/art/the-grains-of-sand-challenge If you're reading this, join in on the fun :)
Wow. Must be a very delicious and juicy...peach!? :)