Prepping Rocks

Hot pulse flow
under peeling, scratch cuticle
Dust under and over, scuffed, sanded into line ridges
Hands buried in solid
slippery cool water trickles
Throughout the clicks of pebbles bumping
and brushing and kissing
in my bathtub.

With icebox nails
I swallow slate.
Each pebble goes down a pill
digs into the gut and weighs.
Goes down a whole ice cube
pressing against the sides of the throat,
cold, wet, refreshing, heavy,

I swallow pebbles in my bathtub.
I lick the cliché of inevitability.
And I dance with thoughts of navy blue.

Jamie Fleming

Jamie is an English major and Creative Writing minor at Cumberland University, and she works for her university's writing center as the Head Writing Specialist. When not stressing over her busy schedule, she enjoys writing cryptic poetry and taking care of her pet turtle.

NOVUS Literary and Arts Journal
Lebanon, TN