Dither Me This is a publication that presents current, old, spontaneous, or nonsensical musings for the reader to use as a writing prompt, discuss with a friend, lover, or to read and move on. Authors may present questions, creative processes, or thoughtful means to end the week; and while you may still be left staring at the walls, it is not without a new thought mulling the paint into iterative transformation. Thus we send waves into the electronic ether and see what is returned – extending a baton to the world, only a little afraid to let go. 

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4 – Ovals

a poem

by Sara Aranda

Ovals

First breath
I begin and morph
oval eyes
oval mouth
soft things and round roots
of noise, touch—
Mother’s eyes
are ovals too.
I am a mess of ovals,
ex-womb ovals
new verse of ovum.

I listen, and sleep,
hear oval wavelengths
Devour, swallow oval dreams
cheek against the curves,
the sun ovals through the trees.

Never forget,
Mother’s whispers come,
ovals exist as they are.
It is all I truly know

and for her, I am not sorry
to warp hips
into this space.

Ovals are born
soft water at the edges
of skin, continent
lips, no need to amend
the oval folds of the heart.
I am infant
imperfect erosion
a widening
mountainous and buried,
rising, an oceanic incision
of life
with eyes, mouth, eyes…

 

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Writing prompt: Write a poem about ovals. How do you define them? How do they define you? Do they change? Are they loud? Are they soft?

 

 

 

With love,

Sara

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Sara Aranda is certainly a mess of ovals and is the founder of BivyTales.

Inspired to respond? Leave thoughts below, in an email, or via Instagram with #dithermethis and tag @bivytales.

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dither me this is a collaborative effort between Sara Aranda, Birch Malotky, and Emma Murray