F


Day 8 of #NaPoWriMo and I'm only on the 6th letter of the alphabet. Maybe I'll try to do more than one a day for a couple of days to catch up.

You can read the first poems in the series here: A B C D E

'F' is descended from the Semitic letter 'waw' (the letter's 'f' and 'w' are surprisingly closely related - to find out why, make a 'w' sound and draw your bottom lip back towards your top teeth so it becomes a 'v' - and keep going...) - its hieroglyphic ancestor probably stood for a club or a mace.

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F


The frequency fades
and you follow his frantic gaze
floorwards, where, freakishly, you find
 ’e’s sinking in to the ground!
First his feet, followed fast
by his fit legs, and the rest of his frame….
his femurs, fibula, fat gut, false teeth -
all the way - to that furrowed forehead and the follicles
of his fine coiffure.
Even then his arms remain aloft.
In five seconds flat, he’s in up to his funny bones,
and only now that he’s nothing but forearms
do you figure it out:
his fingers are folded into fists,
fixed around an iron staff.
(“Funny…” you’re thinking – “that wasn’t there before…”)
Finally, he softens his grip,
vanishes into the earth,
leaving nothing but the mace amongst the foliage…

…fuck!!

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