Saturday, 1 February 2014

26. Cymotrichous


Underneath her wefts lie a multitude of springs, curls and coils which push against their linear suppressors. A spongy seabed, stretching this way and that, new shoots struggling to crack the soil's surface. Peeking out coyly from her corners; a badly-kept secret, a poorly-performed "surprise".


Underneath her wefts lie a multitude of springs, curls and coils which push against their linear suppressors. A hidden crown of glory if ever there was one - beneath power lines lie single strands which slither left, right, left, right like a royal's wave, stood to attention and never at ease, always alert. Exclamations both in singular and plural.

Underneath her wefts lie a multitude of springs, curls and coils which push against their linear suppressors. Enforcing presence whilst cloaked and veiled; a child's conspicuous hiding-place, an unborn's kick or punch. She is cymotrichous, and everybody knows it.

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