entry for Friday Fictioneers, June 28, 2013
How it left my mouth, toward her. How long I’d ached and labored it. How meticulously prepared. From amorphous origins – a preoccupation and urge, a hunch, desire. Like longing + some desperate attention. Had I shared this constant process, they’d have named it “obsession.” A phrase, a statement, a promise, a claim. How it left my mouth when the moment arrived, arrowing itself toward her. A chiseled and hair-thin fibre of sound, a core-content-chain of DNA, let free in the matter between us. How it blurred and whooshed past. Disintegrative and smeared in possible meanings. How quickly the resulting compound decomposed and deconstructed.