Our writing exercise this morning consisted of using an object from a collection given to us to craft a character in a scene. My object was a small crystal paperweight, with multiple surfaces, giving a prismatic effect when viewed through, seeing multiple presentations of the viewed object.
So many voices, indistinguishable at first rise
By breakfast, a choir, not quite in unison
Sings discordantly.
Its chorus coalesces to a chant,
cracks crescendo inside her skull,
Her breathing beats the rhythm of its rant.
Rolling, rocking,
Lashing, bashing,
Back and forth, until
exhausted she slumps,
cradled in her mother’s arms
and cries herself to peace.
© Sheila Ash, 2017
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