Lost in Translation (reading time: 1 minute)
A letter arrived.
Every house on the street had one.
Through the letter slot, it fell
to the floor. Waiting for us.
So we all gathered over a table
layed with tea cups and cakes,
and we brought our letters
with us to compare.
Some thought they were written in
a language of blood and speech.
One woman said it gave her an icy neck.
The old widow wants a chain for her door.
The man next door wants to put his
letter in a bottle, throw it in the sea.
Someone said the sea’ll refuse it,
and throw it straight back.
Someone mentioned invasion,
and everyone said tut.tut.tut
A man nobody knew said his letter
smelled like baked beans, having
forgotten that was his lunch.
Those letters left us feeling fragile,
like icebergs falling apart.
A mystery those letters, written
in a Cyrillic script, and no one
knew what their letter said.
for November’s Visual Verse image, Writers’ Digest NovPAD Day 7: Adapt. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter. The AI image with Cyrillic script was created using MJ v4.alpha.
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