DEAR MOTHERFUCKER
by Kirsty Logan
I'm standing
outside your window
with our son's fingers
in my fist.
look: over by the rhodenendron.
see how the blossoms
set off our blue eyes?
won't you miss those eyes?
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9
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1984 views
12 comments |
34 words
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Author's Note
NaPoWriMo, Day 29. Inspired by 2 items from Artifice Magazine's wishlist: "A timebomb, ticking or otherwise" and "1 thing you might throw at a window, wrapped around a brick".
Other stories by Kirsty Logan
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Brilliant, Kirsty.
Chilling and sparse. Very nice!
Very nice poem, Kirsty. I think the colon might work better after rhodenendron rather than after look. Seems like a more natural and jaw-dropping pause. Just my two cents. Nice work!
Perfect aim then perfect heart shot. Fave.
Marvelous work. The compact form here is very strong.
Great piece. I truly believe she could do it.
ummm. yes. wonderful poem, so economical and yet so powerful
Fucking says it all.
This is one of those I wish I had written myself. Been. There. Done. That. Brilliant!
The aggression is wonderful. And I also like how disturbing the fingers, fist and eyes are--as if they are detached from the body. I read this a while back and thought I had commented and faved. Apparently not.
OUR son's fingers /in MY fist.
Brilliantly economical.
*
Tight.