Untitled by Kelly Grotke

Watery sweet-salt linden sea, I am, I am still, thought the dreamer.  Closed and still my eyes, an eternity below me and above, and so what is the need for eyes at all.

In time her unnerving stillness exerted a gravitational pull on the others, who began their inspections, sideways at first and unobtrusive, increasingly bold because they met without resistance, without any response at all.  A woman, perhaps even a girl, her face was after all obscured by a nearly perfect and symmetrical ring of dyed blonde curls; a line of delicate blue embroidered flowers ran up the side of her jeans. Details, details….young enough then, growing younger by the minute because think otherwise and fear comes racing to the surface more quickly than the inspection warrants even though the impulse for the inspection could not itself be called superficial. Of course in time it is noticed that her hands are pink and old and swollen, but by then it is no longer paradoxical. The woman is stirred by the shoulder.

The dreamer awoke, and the universe was gone, replaced by scenery whose tremendous detail propelled only the animal and specific drive to hide. I am wet, I am falling, she knew, before she hit ground.   My god I am so heavy here, even as my eyes look up I tend toward the ground.

The drunk was taken away, and the bus arrived, full of Saturday girls, perfumed and mascaraed, with Raybans and hopes and hair black as Elvis.

Return to This Week’s Flash

7 Comments

Filed under Kelly Grotke

7 responses to “Untitled by Kelly Grotke

  1. guy

    That first sentence is a like a water slide into the rest of this. Once you read that, you slip all the way through to the bottom. Love it.

  2. stephen

    the first sentence is lovely. so’s the line that starts “my god i’m so heavy here…”

    i like this piece. i like the tone of it, even as i wondered throughout who was doing the observing.

    nice.

  3. Reading this is like falling into a poem.

  4. Kelly Grotke

    thanks, all – I was thinking it was a heavy little brick of a thing by the time I sent it off; you’ve made it seem lighter now.

  5. I very much like the hands …

  6. All of the above, plus… you have a beautiful, unique voice that mesmerizes. Peace…

  7. Pingback: #10 – Union of Opposites « 52|250 A Year of Flash

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s