Week 4, Improv'

Persephone by Trista from our class text:

In a kingdom of glass cutters, she lives off breakage,
crack, and fracture, her body a book slit open,
locusts leaking out, stinking of wishes.
Locked up in blue, she revels in smoke signals.
Children cry. She is the toxin, she thinks, the abscess.
One prick from her and salt rushes to the wound
like a bullet, stinging of electricity.

In the story where she kills the lion,
a dead white dove falls repeatedly from the sky,
and she cannot repair it. Only the book itself grows stronger.
Outside, a child's blue sweater collects fall leaves,
while an army of daylight marches against the dusk.


My Improv': Cinderella

In a palace of marble, she lives off relection,
dirt, and rags, her body a broom slit open,
maggots squirming out, stinking of mildew-no
wishes. Locked up in bland fades of grey, she sings
in laundry loads. Sisters scream. She is the scum,
she thinks, the abscess. One snip from her and bleech
rushes to the insicion like acid, leaking from a battery.

In the story where she marries the stag,
a hard white leathered skeleton crawls repeatedly
out of the blanket, she cannot see it. Only the wood
handle itself grows stronger. Below, a maid's shy
gray smock collects shine, while an army of lice
marches against the cinders.