Friday, April 4, 2008

On the Edge of Something

A sharp roof line
wind-blown rain
the doghouse
for an imaginary dog
perfectly fried chicken.

Tiny soap bubble
drifting around the kitchen
long after the dishes are done
a ten year memory.

Wind chime song, always the same, never the same.

Heat, just enough to make you sweat.

3 comments:

Deborah Vatcher said...

I like the razor-sharp images here, the lingering soap bubble, and the superimposed memories, the music.

Laura said...

Thanks, Deborah. This is really just a bunch of phrases from my notes yesterday hat seemed to belong together. I'm glad you like it!

Karen said...

Ooo...this feels so floaty...so ephemeral...I like it!