[Prose Poem] Untitled as of now
Aug. 30th, 2008 09:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
walkwithheroesI had to write a prose poem for my english class, and I thought I'd share it:
Can you hear that? The lights from the buildings and cars look like stars that have dropped down to the harshness of Earth. Unpleasant orders waft up around her, making a blanket. Beneath her feet, she can feel the frostiness of the cement – the only thing that really lets her know she’s still alive. Her gaze stays focused on a point just beyond the pale moon. Can you hear that? Her hands, tiny and cold and much too pale, reach up to the dark sky above her; she tries to get hold of a star, but cannot get to one. Can you hear that? The smallest of giggles rises up in her throat; she lets it out, sounding more like a kitten then a person. Can you hear that? There’s an army marching through her brain; there are people screaming. Can you hear that?
I can. She puts her hands down to her sides . . . lets one of her bare feet dangle dangerously off the building. Falling. Reaching. I’m broken. She thinks she’ll miss the lights. Slowly, she takes a step, feels a tug, and then . . . she’s falling.
And then, nothing.
Any good?
Can you hear that? The lights from the buildings and cars look like stars that have dropped down to the harshness of Earth. Unpleasant orders waft up around her, making a blanket. Beneath her feet, she can feel the frostiness of the cement – the only thing that really lets her know she’s still alive. Her gaze stays focused on a point just beyond the pale moon. Can you hear that? Her hands, tiny and cold and much too pale, reach up to the dark sky above her; she tries to get hold of a star, but cannot get to one. Can you hear that? The smallest of giggles rises up in her throat; she lets it out, sounding more like a kitten then a person. Can you hear that? There’s an army marching through her brain; there are people screaming. Can you hear that?
I can. She puts her hands down to her sides . . . lets one of her bare feet dangle dangerously off the building. Falling. Reaching. I’m broken. She thinks she’ll miss the lights. Slowly, she takes a step, feels a tug, and then . . . she’s falling.
And then, nothing.
Any good?
