//A bread roll, 3 grapes Two Prose Poems by T.L. Krawec

//A bread roll, 3 grapes

She dreams of writing, dreams of those who spite her being other characters who love her in spite of her. So, she hasn’t written since teach threw that book report in the trash but she knows the word protagonist and wants to be it, to be the most important and best. She writes a new-yet-cherished memory of being Prom Queen, all eyes on her. One hot moment in an electric blue dress. Tomorrow she will put red food dye in her hanky, cough weakly, not eat. Say I stay up all night and write because the universe talks to me. They will take her away when she passes out during a game, sliding from the top of the bleachers. She had that moment after all,
you will think, and the irony will bite you in the same place where you love her. Brandishing her food journal she will tell everyone on the ward: I really am a writer, I really am, with the evidence right there. Two bites of spaghetti and a bread roll, 3 grapes.

//To the well

To the well she went for secrets; it gave her face, reflected. This she inspected for changes that foretell … only white scars of the past. So she made her own magic rule: three times praise the sun and promise, this brings wealth. She squinted until her eyes were light-blighted, pledging heart, self, strength and health to marrying the soil. She tended to it and it fed her, it was dependable and would always defend her. To the well she went again and dredged up mud, a bucket of mud. Out of it came a hand. She took it firmly and pulled.

T.L. Krawec doesn’t know why, but will still let you ask.