Opening by Olive Dwan The line of her body laying on the pedestal - she looked stretched out, taller than before - white curls combed clean, skin clear and taught where wrinkles used to be, the crisp white blanket spread across her, hiding the wood underneath as if suspended on a magician’s table. Outside a garage light left on. The lid opened and the light came out of the metal and glass space it had been contained in, and then into a line - like a firecracker whipped from left to right, a specific distance and then over - A line like the one drawn out by her body on the pedestal and the space it must have come from.
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Olive Dwan is an amateur poet who is interested in using simple language to convey deeper themes.