I’m ‘cheating’ again today, but I have a great idea for tomorrow, for a fresh one. Stay tuned. Today, this is another in my Elemental series. This one is Metal.
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Day 18: Hanging
Low noose in a turned-green field. Not mine, field, I
muse. (Seven horses down seven lanes, never to
come home galloping a-gain.) Sun blades the eyes in
a summer death. Fletchers for arrows, a longsword for
me. The church knows. She knows. A cup of milk
knows. And the birds? Too sharp, they cackle and
skim (and wait for you, too). Hacking at heads takes
more time, and time is made of metal. Blue enameled
sky opaque with stare. Blade, me, I say. Scratch my
iron-filings and sigh.
P.S. It was no lie, it was metal-on-the-flesh. And you
said you liked penetration.
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