Writer’s Block
By london_calling79
- 871 reads
Last night
I took my rejection letters
and formed a noose.
One by one I nailed each
slender slip to the wall to make that
eternal circle.
Those guilty secrets splayed themselves
across the plasterboard, tawdry and brazen as
peacock feathers,
slim receipts for the cost of words.
It took a thumb thickness of plaster
to smother them and
I couldn’t help but imagine
two calloused hands, paint flakes in their
skin ridges and the touch of another man
as in some distant time they let themselves
be undressed, allow the slow peel of layers,
trade the cool womb of the wall for the hot
gaze of a stranger.
I asked them, is he better than me?
Today,
as the tooth of the page bites harder,
white as milk,
my arms ache
and I feel full and rooted.
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Comments
I loved the first two stanzas
I loved the first two stanzas of this London but the final one is a bit harder to decipher so will come back to it later
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