Ruthless resolve

Day 3: write a surreal prose poem. Ugh! I don't really like prose poems,  but have written a few.  I've also written a few fantastical poems,  so I decided to give it a try,  rather than do something 'off challenge'. It's probably more prose than poem,  but it was fun.


She wasn't overly surprised when her trousers began pleading with her.  Wardrobe doors flung wide, determined to weed out everything that caused pain, literal or psychological, she would keep nothing but clothes that fit, and made her feel good.  Out went those constricting clothes, comfortable only after soulless, painful, denial.  Out went the floaty,  bloaty-day tops that made her look three sizes larger.  Out went a dress bought because it was a bargain, but had never been her style. She was a maelstrom of resolve; she gave no quarter.  All was going well until she reached the trousers, which began to beg: "I've seen you through thick and thin, expanding and contracting without judgement.  I'm happy to go along with everything in this wardrobe, tops, jumpers, dresses -  I've made friends with them all for your sake. You can't get rid of me now, we've too much history".  But they were baggy, saggy, and their black had faded to an unappealing shade of grey.  She was ruthless:  "If you like them so much, hop in that black bag with them, keep them company on their ride to the charity shop."


© Copyright 2024. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved

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