timed-write: lemon morn

Every day, the citrus-light of morning squeezes itself through my window, pulp and all.

When life gives you lemons, when life floods you with peelings and mournings, you learn to stockpile sweetness– or you learn to web your fingertips enough to hold on.

Along the windows in my kitchen, I let a small flock of beloved tiny things sugar the frontlines. A miniature angel. A tinier elephant. A crystal. A pebble. A small ceramic foot.

The light comes through and makes the invisible ink of my dreams into something legible, something scratched into my rind. The room is filled with citrus spray, with bright sun, with county fair sugar rush.

I lean against the countertops, and close my eyes against the stinging. I spin inside myself. I cup my coffee mug, gripping it with sweet lemonade-puckered hands.


8/1 Prompt from Susannah Conway – “Morning Light”.

6 thoughts on “timed-write: lemon morn


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