The Sound of Ink

How much sky can I hold in an empty cup or moon on the tip of my tongue? I pray to light, wings, and the darkness within me to hold my legs firm when every step taps the spine of inquest… What about tomorrow? My shell of walls and windows grows heavier with every sunset. ©Susie Clevenger 2020 Flash Fiction Friday 55 ~ March 2020 Poetry is my journal. I write out what I can't keep in. Some days are dark..Some days are light. I created the image through Gimp's photo program. Do I know what I'm doing? No...I've never used Gimp before, but Google is guiding me to instruction. I'm always trying to learn something new. 

These are days that require I swim, to breathe under water, to float tears I can’t shed, and be strong enough to reach an unknown shore. I struggle in the power of the current, fear the length of the storm. In my weakest hour I rally memories of what I’ve overcome. Peace waits in the raging with open arms. ©Susie Clevenger 2020 Artistic Interpretations #2 ~ Pond Lillies

I ask for a cup of hot tea, black with a twist of lemon. Apparently, it’s snobbish to want it brewed instead of a spoonful of rushed. To the waitress I’m just another customer the highway dropped between eggs over easy and a stack of pancakes. With a tired eyeroll she places a teabag floating in hot water on the table and grumbles, “Will there be anything else?” I left the rest of my argument on the tip of my tongue and drank the bitter taste of the middle of nowhere. There’s a Chevy truck outside the window waiting to take me away. She’s a double shift into survival.  ©Susie Clevenger 2020 Poets and Storytellers Writer's Pantry #11