The gauntlet as thrown by Lane: "in the spirit of The Five Obstructions (which we will soon view) I'd be curious to see what happens with a genre shift. Try an iteration of this as a short poem, using the most beautiful and unexpected juxtapositions." Although not completely "carved down to the bone" in length (I am too wedded to the images at this point but feel the future need to break, to splay, the quintains), here is my flash fiction piece rebooted in poetic form:
Knot Merganthum
A found fecundity
in a butterfly. Shape
forever modified by…
magical riboflavin,
so polydextrosely delicious.
To morph, that striking hesperiidae
found again, in and within
an accumulation...
ascorbic acids, glycol mono cultures—
all natural and artificial flavors.
A corrosive people, obsessive
customs
tangentially turn to angling
rows of periwinkle and weeping
willows
countering the cultural malady:
Pasteurization of language.
Meditate the pink princess
franchise.
Withdraw into mounds of
hybridization;
roses, carnauba trees laden with
palm oil,
snowflakes, jimmies, and skittles.
Contentment resides.
Nesting in modified cornstarch,
drawn by gelatin-infused air
its cherry-tipped antennae, a
symptom.
Outline of a fragile psyche,
a pretzel of a prize, a pretiola
before fasting.
Abstention only a dream.
Locust Beans splay open
with buttery knives, they…
expose. An echo and loon cry.
Sorrow in Babylon.
Enter progenitor of dead language,
holy Sire of totalitarian tea
and garden parties. An offfering:
glaze cakes in memoriam
a Tennyson hand extending like star-fruit.
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