Time capsule
By samhennig
- 1365 reads
The ironing board
Is out beside my bed. Flat,
Cloud diluted light creates
Shadows on angles, greys
Cutting across yellowing white.
Paintings hang just off centre, rogue
Marks, where hammers
Failed to hit the nail
On the head. Cotton
Sheets, crinkled from nights
Of restless use.
Laying in the centre, hearing
Rain patter against the window
Pane, cars displacing puddled
Water, engines throwing
Dust into the morning light.
White towels hang, surrendered
To the hook on the back
Of the door. Closed to the world
I lay and hope that nobody
Knows I'm here.
The clock on the side table
Ran out of batteries months ago,
Time has stopped, this room
A capsule of nothing in
Particular.
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Comments
Yet another sickeningly good
Yet another sickeningly good piece from you Sam - and another lump in my throat...
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Sparse but clinical
Sparse but clinical descriptions -shadows on angles, surrendered to the hook-perfect for projecting the content and mood, pulled me into this. Felt as much a mood piece, and a very effective one. You seem in a great creative moment
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Evocative portrait of a room
Evocative portrait of a room that hints at the narrator's troubled state of mind. There's an effective restraint in the language that adds to a sense of apathy towards (and dislocation from) the outside world.
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