Photo by Nataliya Melnychuk on Unsplash
Grapes, brown, bloated, bitter on the vine,
Dress the table, white cloth so fine
To halt our spiced tones mid air-
If they were to burst, where
Would the rotting flesh
Disperse, leaking
Underneath?
Spiders’
Feast.
About the Creator
Harbor Benassa
I carry a piece of the things that I love wherever I go. I love short fiction, chocolate ganache, forensic science, and, aptly, the water.
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More stories from Harbor Benassa and writers in Poets and other communities.
Violence Begets
"Any last words, cowboy?" "None you'd understand, sodbuster." "Funny. That's Marshall Sodbuster to you. But I meant some last nugget that would help us in the adjudication of the myriad offenses counted against you and your gang. I wasn't asking for penitence."
By Adam Diehl5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
This is putting me off trying my own entry, it's too good!
You've created such a rich visual here! The idea of a romantic fruit, such as a grape, rotting and becoming a spider's feast is such an excellent concept! 😍
Impressive! This paints quite a picture of decay! Great nonet, Harbor!