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.

2 comments:

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 :).