Monday, January 25, 2010

Stilled Life

He pulls the flannel sheet up
all the way over his head,
a purply plaid pretend shroud
very much in need of washing.

"If I can lie this way,"
he whispers, "ever so still, I might
convince Death his long-awaited
visit has come too late."

But, he's not sure how long
he can hold the pose, and then
there's the small problem of his
constant shallow breathing.


timmy said...

thanks, francis!
i had seen this on your own blog and thought, hey, why doesn't he put it on flashing by, he even calls it flash fiction.
i look forward to anything else you care to contribute

Francis Scudellari said...

Hi Timmy. I'm working on a series of these very short pieces, so you'll likely see a few more of them soon :).