SLOW REVEAL - excerpt
Hot water cascaded over the ankle she twisted in her acrobatic leap off the highway. The heat radiated from the cast iron stove, keeping the cabin exceptionally warm. She would sweat out the fever under a pile of blankets while she read a draft of poems, several of which she’d written last week when she was feeling content for the first time in years. Her new collection was about to launch and she planned to celebrate with Katharine but her lover let her down. The woman to whom she devoted the very best years of her life, too often sacrificing the embrace for the sake of family that for her didn’t exist. Fuck her. As soon as she recovered, she’d have her own damn party with the caviar and Champagne which were in the mini fridge under the picture window that looked out over evergreens laden with snow.
Animal Magnetism
The object of the urge
…the urge of desire…
The desire to object.
Her words were empty vessels, from which she’d drank the pressed fruit. Nothing left but the hollow darkness and the dank smell of sour wine. She could blame it on the fever that blanketed her thoughts with ellipses, those three lazy dots conveniently poised after a phrase to suggest something one couldn’t articulate, something incapable of defining, more often meaning less than one intended. Entombed by the woolen comforter, she lay on the tattered couch in front of the plate glass window and looked past the gulch that dipped then soared in a dramatic display of forest pines planted along the cliffs skirting the falls. The sky peeked over the mountain range with a show of storm clouds waiting to happen. Another snowfall on the horizon. That much she knew or in other words, nothing much at all.
Animal Magnetism
The object of the urge
…the urge of desire…
The desire to object.
Her words were empty vessels, from which she’d drank the pressed fruit. Nothing left but the hollow darkness and the dank smell of sour wine. She could blame it on the fever that blanketed her thoughts with ellipses, those three lazy dots conveniently poised after a phrase to suggest something one couldn’t articulate, something incapable of defining, more often meaning less than one intended. Entombed by the woolen comforter, she lay on the tattered couch in front of the plate glass window and looked past the gulch that dipped then soared in a dramatic display of forest pines planted along the cliffs skirting the falls. The sky peeked over the mountain range with a show of storm clouds waiting to happen. Another snowfall on the horizon. That much she knew or in other words, nothing much at all.
