The shape of words

His shape and substance: his body like a thick vine, those pliant bones that curled and twined in the shape of his words. The spew of his language hung in the air like wet persimmon seeds, staining the space between them. Mother and children remained silent. They would clean up the mess when he left.

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Author: Steven Baird

Writer, amateur photographer, ad compositor and chicken herder.

2 thoughts on “The shape of words”

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