Mark this as my latest attempt to reactivate the creative parts of my brain. Will try to stay with the NaPoWriMo schedule of one poem per day for the month of April. This is for Day 1, writing a prose poem that is a story about the body.
_________________________________________________ Her mind drifts in uncatchable threads, each cast to a flowing
river of thought and drowned in rapids some moments later.
But this gives her no pause - it feels mostly necessary at the
end of a day like this one. Meetings, and meetings, and also
meetings, until a red, blinking laptop battery reflected her own.
It blinks ever onward now, peering from her bag in the seat
beside her. There is no solace in the cold glass of the train car -
it bounces her head back and forth until she comes away with
an embarrassing red mark. She rubs it gently, hoping her stop
comes before the ticket taker. She rests her elbow on the ledge,
and her cheek in her hand - perhaps finally, the familiarity
of her own skin can calm this torrent of actions and ideas that
threatens to leak out her eardrums. Now the vibrations are cast
between wheels and track, between train car and humerus,
and up her arm until they seem to counteract the frenzy in
her brain. "Ma'am, I'm sorry but we've reached the end of the line."
She'd forgotten where she was. "What?" An uninterested face
stares at her from the front of the car. "You need to get off now,
this train's going back to the yard." The fog stays with her as
she gathers her things and disembarks. She finds the nearest
bench and sits. Her laptop blinks at her. It's too quiet here.
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