http://slow.writerscafe.org/misspunch The original writings of author Stacey en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776042730 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 theway you rot--yourdissolutionsoslow and gracefultheeye can see no hintsofsoftening tissue orbucklingwallsuntilyour petalsstickto the one who touches them,thewet trails of your flesh's unmakingstainingmy cheek http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misspunch/885312/ I'lldrink from eachcup you press tomylips,openmy heart to what-everI swallow,Itrust youtokeep this heart beating:youknow whichroots can cureorkill, whichpetalswill give their poisonto acup of hot waterand.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misspunch/885310/ The chromium was agiftfrom your mother,passed from herbreast tolodge in yourbones,each vertebraeplateduntil it gleamedlike the links inthe chainencircling your wrist.Your body buriesyour treasureas it grows,but despite theyears my.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misspunch/877118/ Your long fingerscurledaround the glasslike dead vines,and the ice washard against your teeth,sticking to yourlips andfreezing justenough of you to make migrationeasier, yourescape made while the rest of uswere too warm andhappy to realize the da.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misspunch/877117/ but years agoI had a T-squarebarring my heartand in my hand a pipette full ofsome poor, simplething's scrambledDNA.The other handempty,reaching for thesolid warmthof the girl nextto me,the curve of herhip unplottedbut more sturdythan .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misspunch/807828/ Your voice like a lost birdchoking on itsown panicand looking forwindowsthat aren't there.Your voice soon tobeanother heap ofsplintered bone and smashedfeathersswept into acorner and dusted overwith tiny remnantsofold memory andolde.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misspunch/804248/ Over the blackmesa and into the boxcanyon,the old villageclinging to its side,gone to rubble orsoon to berubble--some rooms must bekeptdark until theskin can re-grow--a woman emergingfrom a darkroom, thenew skin too rawto meet t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misspunch/804246/ Our new countryhas no faultlines, no cracksalong which tosplit and drift fromitself--a new continent that bobs on thewaves like a life-raft,our weight held bystrata of soda strawsand empty milkjugs, used condomsand shredded bitsof vegan l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misspunch/804241/ Inverse haiku http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misspunch/428401/ The world goes quiet. Let this fall out of your mouth:no milk for you. No comfortin these mountains, on this island. There is no shelter, and it’s cold, andevery time the island burns it getscolder in the wake of the flames.There’s nothing left to burn, now,only tinde.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misspunch/426493/ Stomping through the brackenand you’re wet,the cuffs of your jeans slimed with grey mud,feet cold, fingers tremblingat every slick, green leaf that sticks to your cheek.Water, silt, should not bethis hard to move through,shouldn’t be this hard to speak, butclouds of tin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misspunch/423580/ 1.You are too loose withyour favors -long fingers andlong legsand golden skinglowinglike a cointhat should be hiddenin a pocket of your dark suit.Save this for stage tricks;watch the coin spin over your knuckles -the shine of your nails andthe gloss of your lipsthrowing o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misspunch/422784/ Made some small changes. Thanks to everyone for their comments! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misspunch/421805/ She has been here for a long time. She’ll always be here. This is her river even though no one knows that anymore.She knows there was a time when she was known. Her memory isn’t very good, but she does remember a few scattered details. There used to be people who came to her. They .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misspunch/421800/ An older piece. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misspunch/421799/ Changed some things as per feedback. Thanks for the critique! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misspunch/421428/