It's Still Life

Piece 1: The One with Similes and Metaphors

When the midday sun is winter low, and lovers cast a single shadow, and he is like twice-frozen snow, and she’s milk and honey melting, and love, that’s her secret, and desire is his, and they wonder – will they, won’t they, fit together like a perfect storm.  And the remains of those moments are secreted away on that secluded wintry knoll but she keeps that memory like a trinket, remembers the clear air and sharp icy pine scent. He  remembers the rhythmic crunch of frozen snow, and thinks, no, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife, because days like those are an oracle of lessons, muted whispers and fumbles and unrestricted hands. And she assumes that everyone’s first time is as impoverished as tinned corned beef.

Prose poetry for dVerse, including the following phrase: “No, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.”  –Zora Neale Hurston, from How Does it Feel to be Colored Me in World Tomorrow (1928). Image is from Unsplash. This is the start of a new project, which will include “20 Pieces of a Poem”. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter   ©Misky 2021