Prose

Pick up ya hoes / Self-care

We curl into fetus positions in moments of pain so sharp and … and clawing.  Why? Is it because mental anguish, this fickle brain, tricks the body in reacting to a physical wound? That we hide our soft bellies from the threat? Now, that’s laughable!

Darling, the predator’s all in your head.

Maybe … maybe though, we fold into ourselves to mimic an old memory, as ancient as our first cells, floating, still oblivious to the universe of multitudes beyond that warm cocoon. Our mothers can only do so much.

Yet.

Yet, we can’t return to that place but we can tuck knees to chest and then arms hugging those knees, face pressed to soft thighs. And breathing, let’s not forget the breathing.

Not the rapid influx and rattling outward woosh but we ride that out. Then eventually, gently the slow slip-stream of the in and out. Breathe in … and out.

And contemplate.

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Poetry

grit

where does body begin

to touch the soul

the last iota of healing

before the death of a bloody scar

nakedness … is not simply skin

it is sometimes when in the shower

i feel the inexplicable tear

in the fabric of me that the wind found

& sent sun-parched leaves

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Poetry, Prompt

her side

you’re the sun,
hot & nurturing
smiling w/ white teeth
easy charm, light steps
they bathe in your attentions
i, the moon, live in my pool of void
i like it here,
but i did not ask
to bask in your light,
i owe you nothing, can’t you see?
we share gravity, not hearts

Copyright © 2018, Devina Singh

Written for the Lunar Eclipse prompt by @fwtr_litmag

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Prompt, Short Story

Sugar, spice and everything nice

Here’s my twist on yesterday’s Daily Post’s prompt: Flavourful.

Lola Tracy

She listened with half an ear to what Simone was saying, something about the next PTA fundraiser. Their footsteps rang loudly in the deserted hallway, decorated in fall colours, fat pumpkin stickers stuck on almost every surface. It was getting late.

Her attention caught on what the other woman said, “No, no. If Nancy Peters comes anywhere near me … let’s just say it won’t be good.”

“Be reasonable, she’s a carpenter and she’s offered to set up the stands for free. We need the help, Lola.”

She sucked on a tooth and looked Simone in the eyes.

“I am not going to budge on this,” Simone said.

Hearing the steel in her voice Lola shrugged and said nothing, feeling the twinges of an approaching migraine. They were on their way out passing one of the smaller classes when they both noticed movement inside and backtracked to investigate.

They walked in to find a woman bent over picking something off the ground. She looked up at them with the biggest brown eyes Lola’s ever seen. She straightened and smiled, a pair of charming dimples making an appearance. Her curvy frame was haloed by the waning sunlight and looked the image of a harvest goddess in a pretty sunflower dress.

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