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.
4 – Ovals
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…
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?
Sara Aranda is certainly a mess of ovals and is the founder of BivyTales.
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