Consummation by Len Kuntz

In the dream, she runs. Miles pile up like layers, like safe things, fireplaces, quilted blankets and locked doors, a soft ballad sung by her favorite singer, while in the distance the apartment building resembles nothing frightening at all, just a sad black pimple.

When her alarm rings, she blinks away the night. The sun is so stark, so bright that it makes her eyes water.

At the window, she counts how many stories up she is. She knows, but she counts anyway.

If she squints, she can see his sedan sulking near the complex dumpster where people put their trash, their bloody blouses and scar tissue. It is a long ways down, yet not far enough for her.

He will knock any minute, so she pries open the window. She remembers as a little girl believing that she could fly. She never told anyone her secret. She hadn’t needed to then. Her favorite color was still tangerine.

She fingers the fresh bruises, their color so much like mishandled fruit.

She steps out. The wind is unsteady and cool, tousling her hair the way an enamored paramour might. She makes the air her groom, lets him lead. She pictures him carrying her over a threshold, as light as gauze, and into another room.

.

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11 Comments

Filed under Len Kuntz

11 responses to “Consummation by Len Kuntz

  1. randalhoule

    yikes.

    I expecially liked the line ” tousling her hair the way an enamored paramour might” The constructions were already engaging, but this capped it off nicely.

  2. thanks, randal. i appreciate you reading and commenting.

  3. Kimmy Van Kooten

    Your imagery and creative, in the absolute linearity of it all, blows me away…Thanks for sharing, Len…

  4. Missy

    The last paragraph is just…wow.
    And the imagery throughout this piece — the color of the fresh bruises “so much like mishandled fruit.”

    Very descriptive for so few words. I feel like I am there at the window with her.

  5. oooh… poor her. this was told with a lot of poetry and veils. I like it!

  6. Such gorgeous prose, and subtext masterful here, Len. That bruise line…OUCH! Brilliant. I felt the pain in this one, deep, like the invitation of the wind on that balcony. Sad.

  7. Breathlessly beautiful. Love the imagery and metaphors.

  8. Loved everything here Len, but especially the title. Stroke of brilliance. Peace…

  9. Pingback: Week #38 – Long distance | 52|250 A Year of Flash

  10. The similes and metaphors are just so wonderfully used, developing the intensity of the woman’s situation and her final decision. Very well done, Len.

  11. amazing piece. again, arresting first paragraph. i didn’t see where this was going and i loved it. very complete, union of language and images.

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