Compulsion
At 3:26 in the morning, I woke up thinking about the word 'fracas.' I could see the word behind my eyes, like it was written on a dry erase board with a bright blue marker. A tangible hyperlink. I wondered how it was spelled, with a 'ck' or just a 'c.' I sat up in bed and knocked my glasses off the nightstand. My husband moved and mumbled as I rolled out of bed looking for my dictionary. Fracas, I whispered, what a strange word. My husband sighed loudly and put a pillow over his head. I speculated on words that might rhyme with fracas: Bacchus or Caracas were two that I thought of. I hurried down soft steps with hard, heavy feet. I tripped over a toy truck and a framed photograph threatened to fall off the wall. I steadied it, bumping my head in the process. Mom, my oldest boy called, what happened? I went to his room to tousle his hair and straighten his covers. I asked him if he had seen my dictionary. Look it up online, he said grumpily, sounding like an old man. I made my way to the PC, trying not to turn on too many lights. I sat down on my creaky office chair and found the word fracas on yourdictionary.com. I learned that fracas is a noun. A fracas is a noisy, disorderly fight, quarrel or brawl. I supposed it might also mean an undue disturbance, perhaps in the middle of the night. I sat back, satisfied, thinking about commotions and compulsions and cerebral convulsions. I yawned and stretched, accidentally pushing an unstable book off the shelf. What a fracas, I said, softly--to myself. My baby started to cry.
I consider this post to be an example of a prose poem, which is basically a prose work that has poetic characteristics such as vivid imagery and concentrated expression. Prose poetry often uses no line breaks and/or stanzaic rules. Some people may not consider this to be a good example of a prose poem, however. There will be readers who see the above post as inane rambling or a stream of consciousness type piece. This would not be incorrect, though I still feel that 'Compulsion' is best described as a prose poem.
6 comments:
awwwww...that was lovely. I could see every step and even the glass of partially consumed wine about to spill over the night stand in your words.
I don't think 10 Clydesdale horses could have kept you from your pc to find out about that word. You go girl...
I know your extra anal now...hahaha my MF!
I love this!
"fracas"...so that's what it's called, huh!
This was fantastic, Saadia. "Fracas." What an apropos word that's been of late!
I love the way you do what you do.
I nominated you for an award, come see.
What a treasure. I found you because my blog is actually called fracas, and I was searching for words that rhyme with fracas.
Nice to stumble in. I'm not sure, but I think I tripped over something. ;-)
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