Tuesday, June 16, 2015

prose poem 13 | frozen moments

As the landscape flew past too fast, he tried to hold on to whatever he could: the arrangement of branches on some particular tree, the speckled placement of wildflowers in grassy easements, the long shadow of a stone standing alone in a field. Cadway didn’t know why.

He pressed his forehead against the tinted glass and tried hold frozen each flashing moment in his racing mind. His small body burned with feverish ferment, untouched by the cold flow of conditioned air. Shallow, ragged breaths shook in chest, and the sounds all around him drowned down to distant pin pricks. The smell of the still-hot naugahyde and his mother’s floral fragrance distilled away into a distant dream of memory.

Cadway’s heart ceased to beat, or perhaps he no longer heard it. The sweat beading on his small, flushed cheek seemed so very far away. He tried to close his eyes as he fell many miles back into his seat, but still yet he saw. A crow cawed in quiet, on an open sunlit power line. He was nearly finished.

Cohesion or inertia vied to flee him first. Young Cadway dispersed into a perfect, entropic, and dancing expansion.

His final close-to-cogent thought was of a sepia stained cedar tree, tinted out of color; that, and the disjointed honeysuckle exuberance of his mother’s perfume

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