Four years later, I would probably write this one a bit differently, but I like it. I hope you do to. Props to whoever can guess which line is my favorite.
Prom Queen
The golden hair
of our prom queen’s
broken French twist
batters her made-up face
in a gust of November air.
The black hand surrounded
by the soft pink fabric
of the back of her coat
trembles
from more than the icy wind.
The gray-blue tile
of the Planned Parenthood floor
reflects florescence into her
stormy eyes.
The periwinkle whisper
of a baby boy’s rattle toy
from memories far away
shatters her composure
in a crash of hail.
A tarnished silver tiara
behind dirty glass
in the pawnbroker’s shop
mirrors the passing
of a cloud-studded sky.
2 comments:
"The periwinkle whisper"
well guessed, Chops!
it's probably the only line worth consideration, but well guessed nonetheless.
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