Today’s assignment gives us fingers, the prose poem, and assonance.
Her fingers, stiff but steady, slowly working through each and everything line.
She stretched, editing what she wrote, envying the ease that others wrote so well.
Lamenting her fingers, awkward, and clumsy, she altered her prose as she worked.
Hoping against hope that she would awaken the creativity that she knew simmered,
under the seemingly abandoned weight of her task.
Oh, my god.
This one is even worse than yesterday’s poem.
Is it because my own fingers are giving me problems? I’ve been newly (finally) diagnosed with carpal tunnel syndrome. It makes my fingers tingle and distracts me from everything. I start physical therapy on Wednesday.
Let’s just say that Wednesday can’t come soon enough.