This Reference to Jack the Ripper

This slit between thumb
and forefinger:

You know this is murder,

you know where this ends.

I twist your knife

and my body dies with a sigh.

Oh, the panicky phone calls at
2AM;

Oh, the need to know:

Lodged between hemispheres:

To see is to trust, to trust

that all is as it seems.

Peel skin to bone;

acquiescence is better

than silence,

and nothing is nothing

at all.

Image and Text (c) Rob Goldstein, 2017 all rights reserved.

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February Speculative Fiction Round-Up

February Speculative Fiction Round-Up from D. Wallace Peach

Myths of the Mirror

Pixabay image by Marianne Sopala

Thank you to everyone who participated! Great stories and to those who stretched their imaginations, Congratulations. ❤ Below is the round-up of all the February poems, flashes, short stories, and some artwork too! If I missed yours for some reason, please add a link in the comments and I’ll happily reblog. I invite everyone to enjoy some unique stories and meet some wonderful writers. I’ll post March’s prompt on the 1st!

February Round-up

Pensivity – of Mice and Elephants

Frank Prem – a surprise (I do not like)

Ethan Eagar – This Spells Trouble

Jane Dougherty – A better place

Michnavs – Thump-poem

Jordy Fasheh- Lord Ganapati and his brother Lord Kartikeya

Cosistories – An Elephant Never Forgets

Sadje – A mis-adventure

Trent McDonald – When the Elephant bumps the Mouse House – Chapter 1

Violet Lentz – Another crack at it

Ellen Best – The…

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Into the Fire

from Rose, the Poet Rummager

Poet Rummager

into-the-fireIllustration by Ted Giffin

I’m seeing you tonight.

It isn’t my heart I worry about

or its thump, thump, thump

and its skips.

Nor is it my mouth

which talks far too much

and longs to whisper things

you shouldn’t hear.

I’m worried about my horns.

Have I polished them enough?

Can they be seen through my hair?

Are they sharp and tough

to pierce through your armor?

I’ll invade your guarded soul

and revel in its capture.

In my bed,

I’ll keep you satiated

in your defeat,

my most prized prisoner,

eternally chained to me.

 ***My poem was inspired by a fun conversation I had with Seeing the Whisper.***

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The Little Flame..

from A Cooking Pot and Twisted Tales

a cooking pot and twisted tales

The Fire within, Anger, Poetry, Rage, Minor and Major, Burning

Our silence sufficed. We thought that

if we didn’t talk about those micro things

that made us uncomfortable,

they would disappear.

So, we walked the fringes of invisibility.

Hiding our thoughts from fear and shame

hoping that no one notices

the tears running down our face.

Our silence became brooding anger.

Micro things became macro things

and in the fringe of invisibility, we plotted;

fueled by the stokes of little flames.

©

Jacqueline

An Igbo proverb says, ‘when we overlook the small pot, it puts off the fire.’ Never underestimate the little things, for they can become the big things.

The Daily Post – micro

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