Mussitation

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!
    V

  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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