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Silence is an instructor telling me now, what you’re doing and with whom. I am not so dim. My organs sag like wilted crepes. I am suddenly jowly everywhere. I am a rain-soaked picnic while the tarp above the table sounds like a wet harpsichord about to burst its water belly. We agreed. We promised to make our partners happy. I know what you’re doing. It’s happening right now, isn’t it? I kick off the lights. I put on music. The moon is trying to call me out for a slow dance and, after a skip of hesitation, I decide to go. I’m not as busy as you. |
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Partners by Len Kuntz
Filed under Len Kuntz
52|250 A Year of Flash 
Love the wilted crepes and water belly; gorgeous phrases in here, and a great last line. S’all good.
That first line is so telling, so relative to human relationships and response. Beautifully written, Len.
So much said here. Absolution and recrimination in so few words. Bravo.
susan, catherine, martha (where have you been, martha? where are you going and why?)–
thanks so much for reading and responding. you are very kind, indeed.
best regards,
len
Len, you are a master of craftsmanship, drawing the reader in, scintillating sensory details, and a dazzling finish! Another fantastic read.
And yes, Martha, where HAVE you been? Missed you!
Good one, Len.
I particularly like “Silence is an instructor”.
“I am suddenly jowly everywhere” is a great line. Great use of silence. Enjoyed.
I love the picture you paint, Len… the images you create! This is wonderfully written! Everything fits… the moon invitation that leads to that last line… beautiful. :-)
Love the spaces in between here, what remains unsaid. Gorgeous prose, a touch of self-deprecating humor, and you do sad so well. Peace…
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