An attempt at prose poetry, and I’m unsure how I feel about it. Thoughts? – LY.

Perfectionism digs her heels to a halt. Curls her fingers into her veins, and she despairs at the beet splatter on her dress. She swirls in the vortex of how far she is. Eyes clamped to the nearness of her goals.

© LaYinka Sanni, November 2014.