“My Tree” and “The Thing” by Tiffany Shelton

Posted: June 14, 2016 in Vol. 8: Creative Writing

My Tree

She died and then
oak of iron cracked
open and
oozed dots scarlet, golden
vile sunshine
emptied between aging leaves
puffy pink petals perpetuating purity
poured pain past
the veil
And then I screamed
for my oak-iron shield
to the blacksmith for repair
cracks cover crevices crannies chinks
make it work I said my sunshine
turned stale
my petals
wilted and fell
the Earth sky sea sun constellations
I had and now I
with branches frightened and pale
stood with my back against
the veil
Doom painted me my time without
my oak-iron shield
my puffy pink petals
so limited to heal my wide-range fields so
I cried and then


The Thing

It was happening again on this 31st
The eerie silence
The thick atmosphere
The black emptiness
There is a thing
outside our door
I’ve heard our neighbors
cries but shhhh
keep silent this thing
listens like wolves crawls like roaches
and sees nothing but sounds like
bats in caves
Hear its stench it beckons no breath
when you look out the window
close your lids
its chomping ravenously on our neighbor
but puking out the candy corn treats
and little girl witch costumes
There it is shhh
the thing outside our door
don’t see its eye crevices oozing or feel its
nails sliding on your thighs bare from a slutty cat costume
saying your name it says your name
through muzzle or mouth
quiver not your lip
shed not a tear just remain still with
There is the thing
no longer outside our door
It hunches moving spidery on our pearly wall
painting it with stench and blood
hunching its hips much too inwardly
curling its head much to deeply
it moans
again again again
again again again
On this 31st
There the thing
is outside our door
with candy corn treats so fatty and sweet I didn’t mean to
welcome it in
and now we’re on the floor
nails nails peeling secreting
thick red and black gunk fierce teeth
so sharp so unsteady they shiver eager
each bone or muscle quakes with uncontrollable delight
it searches for sound of cornered prey
they moan
or was that you?

Written for Dr. David N. Odhiambo’s ENG 313: Intro to Creative Writing


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