by Britt
I have a hard time getting past the pickles in this poem... because I keep just seeing it, lol. I know exactly what you mean and yet it's such an interesting image, I would've never thought to use that in a poem. |
What a odd yet very creative thing to write about. You've captured the moment of being in an elevator so well, feeling squished between bodies (the metaphor of jarred pickles is soo perfect, not sure how you came up with that one!) and looking trying to read the expressions on the faces next to you, wanting to say something (itch on tongue, another brilliant line) but then again not wanting to break the silence. One of the most creative writes I've read in a while, very well done! |
[Judging comment from week of 4/08/13]: |