This was a difficult one and I’m not convinced it’s finished; I’ve had some useful feedback from my online critiquing group but other critiques are welcomed.
We had to do a manual task and observe the details, then write about it. I wasn’t inspired but I thought I’d better write anyway, and as I sat staring at the blank page and watching my hand not write anything, inspiration hit.
Labour Pains
I write, hand tight.
Tense. Always:
past, present, future.
Knuckles hunch like ancient slaves.
Fear snares the words.
Fingers throttle the pen,
afraid I’ll say nothing.
I wrangle blank pages,
ignoring the void.
I have the funniest readers in the blogosphere (not necessarily ha ha…)