This was written for NaPoWriMo, but now I'm looking for some feedback. Anyway, I only guarantee crits back if you leave a link.

In regards to a wardrobe; Dear Mme. Lewis--

You've a key wrapped in convalescents and vine,
strung about your neck and dull.
Dull in that shined-for-too-long way
that professors of obscurities so often have.
I want it in my waistcoat pocket
I want it in my hand, in my pocket in my hand
between skin creases and inked promises I forgot with the time of day.

I want your dearest dead,
warmed in the acorn way and stuffed in
the bloated chipmunk cheeks of the earth.
I want the wardrobe under my fingertips
and stinging through my nostrils with
pinpricks of oak and age.
I'll bend my jacket at the elbow,
push through ermines on hangers with long-torn-out throats,
and let J. Frost tie my eyelashes together with water and that string called 'cold'.
I want Narnia in my waistcoat pocket,
wrapped in a kerchief and set to dry.
I owe a ton of people critiques.

If you're one of them, please PM me.

I have trouble keeping track.
Last edited by Fly, Marlowe at Aug 13, 2008,