She dreams a song of red-booted steps dancing on stones made of ink. Flesh is exposed, (made) believed real, but never touched—can’t feel what has never been… “But I am”, says the ghost(ly) writer… his mussitation is swallowed by the dark. She looks over her shoulder, searching for a mouth, a heart, some bloody bones… wakening to nothing.

in the night,
a hint of leather
and red, lies

the wee notes…
Mussitation: silent movement of the lips in simulation of the movements made in audible speech; muttering; mumbling; murmuring.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Writing Unseen.

45 thoughts on “Mussitation

  1. Love this! Decadent magic…the very first line steals me away and fills my mind with such potent imagery! I always love lingering here in your realm of powerful poetry! Also love the intriguing photo..deep reds and inky blacks melding as one, very mysterious! I am in the mood for reds this week.
    Have a sweet night, thanks for this delicious post!

  2. Wonderful(ly spooky) piece of flash fiction! Love the word play and the flow of this. Thanks for posting to the out of standard!

  3. Yes, I have felt that way and awoken expecting to open my eyes to the scene where I was and discover it gone, stolen buzz of the alarm. What a great poem Magaly.

  4. I have my word for the month, mussitation, speaking in tongues with the lips of a ghost. Mussy and delicious. “Lies” is a curious word to end your poem with, because one doesn’t know whether it is invitation or warning. (OK< both.)

  5. it brings to mind dreams that will not let you waken, no matter how hard you try.
    Sometimes frightening, finally struggling awake with a lingering scared feeling but grateful. I loved the write!

  6. Liking this one, Magaly. One I just can’t quite reach or hear. He wasn’t a 100 percent mime though because we heard him declare that he was real. Mussitation, a word that I now know but won’t be abLe ro remember. Thank you for using it. My instant dictionary guessed a Gas Station. Ha ha 🙂

  7. An eerie and dreamlike poem, Magaly, with a very sound and intelligent choice of words, each one evoking a state of dislocation and alienation, as I suppose the dead must feel, or the newly reborn…especially like the closing lines.

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