Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

August 19, 2019, 12:10:39 PM
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This week's words;

Sunday - Instructions

Monday- Motorcycle

Tuesday- Wildflower

Wednesday- Asparagus

Thursday- Stopwatch

Friday - Confetti


Word of the Day
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Author Topic: Balance Beam  (Read 62 times)
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« on: June 11, 2019, 05:02:26 PM »

A thick mist of stale cedar and spruce particles linger in the air. A beam of orange citrus glow loomed in the studio through the balcony side window.
The wooden beam sat next to a dozen mirrors staring upright. Her thumb cradled the bar, its metallic legs wedged between her thighs. She stood upright in first position, her head tilted back with her chin raised. The dull chips of wood prickled through her leotard and her skin like cacti. Her lips blushed and her cheeks were raised on stilts. She stretched her arms wide and inhaled. The wax polished floors stifled the hairs of her nose. Each movement grew deeper,  joints sinking into the bar. As she moved through the ballet studio, It was almost as if the ends of toes were pins and needles. Her toes penetrated through her soft brown ballet shoes into the floor. She leaned into the railing then the mirror and then the floor. Soft droplets of sweat graciously slide down her brow. Her movement hallowed the room as the mirror reflected back. The explosive tension through her spin, spine shaped like the handle of a fork A black swan that traded her light to shine ag-

TIMER STOPED (continued)

The sun grazed the wooden floor. We danced all night. The moon loomed as the light kissed your face, I tiptoed across the room. The amber street lights sizzling on the corner, complexion showered with tan leather. Skin creased like fake clothes. How could you walk around with someone else skin? The wood cradled against her thighs, cold metallic legs leaned against her worm leotard. Her fingers flinched as she shifts her toes like vipers. Visiting the balance beam. Her weary toes.
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