Prose Poem

Big Frank has been reading more prose poems. Here's a good one from Peter Johnson. Read it the first time, and then ask yourself: "How does that make me feel?" Then read it again and ask yourself: "Why?"

A Ritual as Old as Time Itself
by Peter Johnson

There's a man flying his wife. He's been at it for the last year of their marriage. With one end of the string around her heart, the other around his fist, he scurries up and down the shoreline.
A year ago, his wife yelped at the first tug, but now she seems content, as if she'll never come down.
And the man? He's so happy he wants to fly her all the time. But just as he considers this, the sand beneath his feet gives way. He's unable to run, and his wife begins a slow descent.
"No," he yells, "it's not fair. It's only been one year, you flew me for two."
"Now, now," she says, making a perfect landing. "You'll get used to being in the air again, and, unlike you, I promise to be very gentle on that first tug."