On Friday morning, she made a phone call
And sprouted toes and fingers.
While one set held her steady against him,
The other stretched and reached until they touched
The far corners of her bedroom.
They bloomed and presented
Their spiralling surface to the roof.
She’d never taken up this much space before.
When she realised she was not scared to cross that line,
Her neck lifted her head like its slack zipper
Had just been pulled to the top of her spine.
She felt her age.
That was new.
Her mind emitted a different hue that was
No longer pink and young and wary,
But dark green and able.
By Tuesday it wasn’t just her fingers that grew,
But her hair and eyelashes too, and she felt like
A plant now too big for her pot.
She was ready for something brand new.
Lucent Dreaming is an independent creative writing magazine publishing beautiful, imaginative and surreal short stories, poetry and artwork from emerging authors and artists worldwide. Our aim is to encourage creativity and to help writers reach publication! Subscribe to Lucent Dreaming now, support us on Patreon and follow us on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram.