1199: Write About An Empty Birdcage | Elaina M. Ellis
"Write About An Empty Birdcage"
Elaina M. Ellis
Write about an empty birdcage. As in: write about your ribcage after
robbery. Use negative space to wind a song from the place on the
dresser where a music box isn't. Write about the corners where the two
of you used to meet. Draw the intersections, arrow to the sidewalk
where her shoes aren't near yours. Write about
an empty birdcage. As in: write about a hinged-open
jaw that is neither sigh nor scream. Use this to signify
EXIT. Make sure to describe the teeth, the glint of
metal deep down in the molars, the smell of breath after lack of
water. Make sure to draw this mouth a thirsty and human portrait of
what it means to be used up. Write about voice by writing
about how it feels when it's painful to swallow. If you must put noise
in the scene
make it the sound of bird wings flapping in a cardboard box. Show us
an empty cage and give us the sound of confinement. Take hope and fold
it small as seed, then suck on it. Slow and selfish. Write about an
empty birdcage. Birdcage can read: building, structure, abandoned or
adorned. As in:
loop and tighten a vine of nostalgia around the room
you currently brick yourself into. Recreate the sweet of jasmine, but
mortar the door so it will not seep through. Write about an empty
birdcage. Replay us the scene. As in: she presses her pale cheek
against the window, as he turns his pinstriped back, slow and final.
Again. She presses her pale cheek against the window, and he turns
his pinstriped back, slow and
final. Again. She presses her pale
cheek against the window, as he turns his pinstriped back, slow and
final. Again. She presses her her pale cheek against the window,
as he turns his pinstriped back, slow and final.
Write about an empty birdcage. Write about the hinges.
Describe them as dry knuckles. Write
how I became a moan.
Elaina's book was just released on Friday, and I'm excited to have a chance to share a piece of hers.
Elaina M. Ellis
Write about an empty birdcage. As in: write about your ribcage after
robbery. Use negative space to wind a song from the place on the
dresser where a music box isn't. Write about the corners where the two
of you used to meet. Draw the intersections, arrow to the sidewalk
where her shoes aren't near yours. Write about
an empty birdcage. As in: write about a hinged-open
jaw that is neither sigh nor scream. Use this to signify
EXIT. Make sure to describe the teeth, the glint of
metal deep down in the molars, the smell of breath after lack of
water. Make sure to draw this mouth a thirsty and human portrait of
what it means to be used up. Write about voice by writing
about how it feels when it's painful to swallow. If you must put noise
in the scene
make it the sound of bird wings flapping in a cardboard box. Show us
an empty cage and give us the sound of confinement. Take hope and fold
it small as seed, then suck on it. Slow and selfish. Write about an
empty birdcage. Birdcage can read: building, structure, abandoned or
adorned. As in:
loop and tighten a vine of nostalgia around the room
you currently brick yourself into. Recreate the sweet of jasmine, but
mortar the door so it will not seep through. Write about an empty
birdcage. Replay us the scene. As in: she presses her pale cheek
against the window, as he turns his pinstriped back, slow and final.
Again. She presses her pale cheek against the window, and he turns
his pinstriped back, slow and
final. Again. She presses her pale
cheek against the window, as he turns his pinstriped back, slow and
final. Again. She presses her her pale cheek against the window,
as he turns his pinstriped back, slow and final.
Write about an empty birdcage. Write about the hinges.
Describe them as dry knuckles. Write
how I became a moan.
Elaina's book was just released on Friday, and I'm excited to have a chance to share a piece of hers.