Free Entry 1, Week 13

For my first Free Entry this week, I'm going to utilize some guiding advice that Professor Davidson gave me in my second journal assessment. I will take a longer piece from one of my previous entries and attempt to contract it, pushing various images together to get off of the original subject while, at the same time, discovering a poem within the poem.

This is the original piece:

Blue arms extend pointed nails
in her direction. A menacing purr
emanates from the deep bowels of her breast.
Planetary plates shift silently
under their souls to avoid the trample
of destitution. His hand rakes
down her spine, skeletal bones
shivering in discourse. Her muscles
clench his waist tightly,
rolling in time with her pants of exertion.

You’re touching me. I’m -
not touching you. Their lungs tighten:
free air, swirling mischievously
around them like flamed leaves
drowning on air. His nails drive
into her skin, a jackhammer
demolishing that straw house of ’73.

Swinging with bondage to her gutted teeth,
eyes rutted hollow in the dusk. I’m not
touching you. She thrusts up
against his torso, pinning him a sheep
to the slaughter. Her fingers grip
his bony wrist in a vice
unbreakable.
Bending down, she hisses,
You’re touching me.


This is my revised version:

Title: Little Red

Blue arms extend pointed nails
in her direction. Planetary plates
shift silently to avoid the stampeding
trample of his hand raking blisters down her spine.
Skeletal bones shiver in discourse,

swirling mischievously
around them like flamed leaves
drowning on air. Her polyester primed
nails jackhammer at lightening speed,
demolishing that straw house of ’73.

Swinging with bondage to her gutted
russet eyes, spiking bullets into the dusk.
I’m not touching you. She thrusts up
vehemently, pinning him a sheep
to the slaughter. His skin is shed
in ashes along the plummeting floor.
Bony wrist in a vice
unbreakable.
Bending down, she hisses,
You’re touching me.