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Still LifeBy Melisa Malvin-Middleton QuailBellMagazine.com  I crawl across the table dragging my bum heart. Smudges from caring fingers trace the cracks on my walls. Some condolences are better left unsaid. Beautified blooms from every season. Idealized silken bud forgotten by the emerald dragonfly. Or recall— the tragedy, whispers in gossip. The dissonant crash was catastrophic, no simple brushstrokes on a canvas skull. Where is the splendor here? In the observation of fragile petals? In the continuous prick of a thorn? I am not proud to be the wilting pink carnation or rotting peach on display. I will not animate The Widow with the Pearl Earring wearing her badge of courage for the admiration of casual visitors. #Unreal #Death #Grief # Flowers #PearlEarring Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter.
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