Whistling From Below

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #345

Words:  whistle, yard, eggs, push, skin, muffle, pry, close, touch, clay, pit, listen

Listen closely. Muffled
whistles, haunting, pushing
sound under my skin like
pin-pricked goosebumps. Touch
my face, feels wet, thick
as clay. Pry my leaden feet
loose, tip-toeing on eggshells
away from troubling tunes wafting
up from the pit. Three yards to go
until safe.


About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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4 Responses to Whistling From Below

  1. oldegg says:

    That’s a worry hearing those tunes from the pit. I’d steer clear if I were you.


  2. annell4 says:

    Running home! You will make it!


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