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Writing prompt for 2/10/22

 


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  1. Kitchen rags of roses and vines. Old towels slick like mermaid’s skin. Snipped bedsheets and Daddy’s old ties, stitched together, forming skirts and sleeves. A robe of many colors made just for me. I wear it and smell where it’s been. Sun-toasted grass; a salty sea; fallen apples left to cider in a field; and Momma’s perfume clinging to spent scarves belted around my waist. Each scrap its own story. Each patch an armored scale. Because “one is only poor if they choose to be.” This, my robe of many colors made of leftover magic in mundane thrown away things.

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    1. Wow.....I love this short trip into memories and objects. So vivid!

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  2. I was sitting in coffee shop in Tulsa when the drugs kicked in—accompanied by an instantaneous regret at swallowing the acid, ecstasy, and Xanax at the same time. I looked down, and my teeth sat in my hand. Suddenly my right eye bulged upward, and the world distorted into a geometric nightmare. The ground rose up in vibrant juts of yellow and lime, while my arms elongated into curvatures, diagrids, and swirls of every pastel combination. Other strange, angular golems moiled around, and I realized they were the other people who had been sitting with me. Everyone had changed.

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    1. This is so visually mathematic and creepy! Love it!

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