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Fear of Heights
The little man was a balding beetle
obsessed with Marilyn Monroe
hanging golden and luminous above his bedside table.
He put the teapot on to boil,
and shaking legs stepped
closer and closer to the abyss
till he could ponderously stare over.
No, stare is not the right word,
glimpse is a better fit,
one must tread carefully
amongst all these words,
and fear tripping over the wrong one
lest it send you over the edge.
But one timid glimpse
and a jolt of cocaine terror
were all it took.
obsessed with Marilyn Monroe
hanging golden and luminous above his bedside table.
He put the teapot on to boil,
and shaking legs stepped
closer and closer to the abyss
till he could ponderously stare over.
No, stare is not the right word,
glimpse is a better fit,
one must tread carefully
amongst all these words,
and fear tripping over the wrong one
lest it send you over the edge.
But one timid glimpse
and a jolt of cocaine terror
were all it took.
Published 21st Feb 2010
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21st Feb 2010 9:27am
...you give this timid rather comic character and the 'glimpse' inside the writer's head create a compelling picture and I can smell the fear in your final lines. Promising work.
