Christmas vomit remains in a bucket as a stray dog wanders by. I follow him. His fur is matted by the days and nights wandering the streets of El Raval. I carry the bucket to a fountain to wash it. The vomit mixes in the fountains water. I walk back through the streets in the morning light the dog no longer remains with me. Only the homeless and muslims linger outside their shops. The brain of the streets narrow and bend; cavernous and silent on this Christmas morning. The Christmas stupor has set in.
About the Creator
Dakota Pederson
I started when I felt I could not reach any lower but searched for truth. Instead I found poetry in a thrift store on Sprague Avenue. Poetry is my truth.
Keep reading
More stories from Dakota Pederson and writers in Poets and other communities.
A Better World
Brown Yellow Black And White
By Dakota Pederson5 years ago in Poets
Craft Over Catharsis Challenge Winners
Craft Over Catharsis? What the hell does that even mean? The phrase came out of a curation meeting as a genuine question. We had been noticing that many challenge entries, across prompts, naturally gravitate toward trauma, grief, and personal reckoning. That makes sense. Writing is often cathartic. It's one of the ways we process what we've lived through.
By Vocal Curation Teama day ago in Resources
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.