(my 3rd Ad Hoc Fiction winner)
You tease my heartstrings out and tie them in a bow. But not before you’ve YANKED with all your might, unreeled me to my spinning, naked core. Not until you’ve run with my quick around the neighbourhood, twice, (I grab the door frame with both hands, not to be dragged after), wrapped my sweet and tenders ‘round house and lamp post and dazed-looking dog. (The door frame’s splintering.) THEN we get to the neat, tidy bow.
Not as light as you’d think birds alight on my wires. After-school kids use my innards for skipping. Total strangers stumble over me. The Special Brew crew use my elastics as hammocks in the lager-y light of evening.
I’m all out there.
Spooling through this pinhole in my chest.
That’s what you do to me. Every single day. And every day I come back for more.