Here is my Day 17 poem using the napowrimo.net prompt: a poem that presents a scene from an unusual point of view.

It starts from one point
and races to the other

In one swift motion
two-fingernails sharp
I’m half of what I used to be
but two layers instead of one

Plus a little blood along one edge
from where I split the skin

But it doesn’t stop there
I’m no contortionist
but with each new fold
parts of me that shouldn’t touch
are in full contact—
all narrowing to a single point

Then the pinch
where my spine used to be
and the flick that sends me
riding on the breeze
over chairs and tables

It’s not freedom, but it’s close
I wish this feeling could last forever

But now I lie in a clump
at the base of the façade
bent and broken
staring helplessly at the claw
descending towards me

(17 April 2019)

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