on writing

it’s dark in here
but
as the spark strikes
the fuse flares into action
a white star
racing across the floor
under the chair
up over the coffee table
leaving an afterglow
of char
on the carpet
i lean forward
seeing
the pile of dynamite
resting haphazardly
against the door
time slows
as the small flame
winds it’s way
across the room
a rube goldbergian
series of events
that leads
to the destruction
of everything

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2 thoughts on “on writing

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