less than 1 minute read

After Sei Shonagon

Sunflowers in November.

A hospital before the backup
generator kicks in after
the breakdown of negotiations
between selfish men, far away.

Nebulae the size of our
solar system in colours
unimaginable and invisible.

Weston-Super-Mare beach
at low tide. Those discarded
phones that lie in a drawer,
former luxuries, former heights
of technology that collect dust
and wait to be useful again.

The wind after a storm.

A warlord sat by themselves
on a plastic chair, in a
featurless room, waiting.

Those three am thoughts.

Prompt was to “Rewrite a Sei Shonagon list” from AmyKay Poetry

I found a article of her lists here and was drawn to this title.



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