The strawberry haired Wendigo blows in excretion. Breathing vegetables, spoonfed, wear toupees done in heatstroke.
Blushing in the thermal doorway. Teeth exposed in tinfoil increments out of The Reader's (hypocrite, brother) in blue opal doorbells. Halls of trance mirrrors, borders, nooks and crannies with hatchetheads all float in gravitational
Doll cinderblock eyes.
The strawberry reed breathes, and smiling sugar cubed hieroglyphs slowly exposed in numbers of cuneiform hexes spiling in a Chinese flypaper flask.
Comments
The first prose poem
that anyone ever introduced me to was The Colonel by Carolyn Forche. I really enjoyed it and I enjoy prose poetry overall. I am fascinated by how I can't put my finger on the line between what makes it poetry and what makes it prose.
I also love folklore and the Wendigo. The TV show Supernatural, the TV show Hannibal, and the video game Until Dawn had interesting takes on the Wendigo and all of them are coming to mind as I read the poem. None of those interpretations of the creatures fit what I think of when I think of strawberry hair, but the juxtaposition is definitely fun in a dark way, and new.
I'm afraid I can't give any suggestions for this one. It's out of my league and over my head. All I can say definitively is that I like it. Something creepy and endearing about it all at once and that's what I like.
Kelsey
Thank youuuuu Kelsey
Carolyn is a very kind woman. Someday she will get all her credit and they will have a day of appreciation for her at Brandeis or whatever. Thank you!