Welcome to the Friday word emporium, 55ers. Here we try to put aside the conventions of the blogosphere and look to our own craft, in a place I like to think of as a comfortable room full of non-judgemental kindred spirits, an atmosphere I always felt when this meme was overseen by its generous originator, Galen Hayes. The rules remain the same, no rules except the word count, 55 of them, no more, no less, prose, poetry, satire, lyric, narrative lament...whatever you can wrap your pen around.
Link your effort in the comments below between Friday and Saturday at midnight, and I will be by to read.
Without further ado, let's start the 55 rolling:
Resonance
Sampling
the aquifer of her
semi-conductive sorrows
my clone begins
to hate me.
Who
could blame her
blistered
with alien faults,
given not life
but a monotone's bastard
resonance,
no cry, no song's sigh
to cipher our carrion end.
The soul she cannot twin
fears her. Eternity shines
liquid before me;
forever she's held
homeless.
~June 2018
Images: Polar Light, 1926, ©Rene Magritte Fair Use
Title unknown, ©Dmitry Brodetsky, via internet. Fair Use.