Ursula’s Lament (#15 NaPoWriMo Prompt)

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At the fuzzy edges of dreams
The aches begin again, arms no longer there,
Graced and graceful in their wave
Choral melody in perfect tone, her amethyst form dancing.
Ursula sludges awake, the shell ridged under aged flab,
Rough as her memories,
As her ecstatic dreams from when she was whole.
Six tentacles thrash, I will not remember!
Her father’s fury, “You will not sing, dance!”
Seizing her future and slicing it away.
Her lithe limbs gone.
“Focus,” his hiss foamy froth. “Only this.”
His form now long rotted, in the seawater
Caressing her form,
Her tears indistinguishable on her cheek.
Her eels slipping into the lair,
A copper ray of sunshine, born of Triton,
trailing them. For once the child’s melodic form silent.
For a flash:
I could let her go. I’m fighting my father’s fight.

Her aching phantoms.
Her weary form.
A smack of lipstick determination. Turning
“I can make you human, girl.”

Dreaming of Teacups (#14 Na/GloPoWriMo prompt)

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Bone china, tiny in my palm,
Hand-painted roses, bubble-gum pink,
The snappable handle in my fingers,
I’m lifting steaming Rooibos  to drink.

The first sip has the sour tang of
Craft beer over salt and vinegar chips.
Aluminum under my fingers now,
Greasy from salty dips.

Dreaming of teacups turned beer cans,
The meaning is clear,
Stay away from fragile pretentions
And hold onto the things you find dear.