A bird flew into our sliding glass door and left an imprint of itself—even of its beak on the glass. I sincerely hope it recovered—we found no body the next morning—but I am using its outline as an excuse not to wash the window and as inspiration.
I also could not help thinking of how ducklings imprint and how another’s touch can create a lasting sensation on the skin or how memory seems to imprint certain places.
Write a poem about the voice you still hear in your head or the memory of another arms wrapped around yourself that you recall to comfort yourself during moments of fear or pain. Or write about what imprint, if any, you hope to leave on the world. Write about what echo or outline remains.
Read the lovely imagery in Alice B. Fogel’s “Variation 3: Snapping Turtle,” Gina Franco’s “Refrain,” or Claudia Reder’s “Untranslatable Song” or read Alex Dimitrov’s mournful “Together and Ourselves” or Carolyn Forché’s haunting “Selective Service” for inspiration.
For a bonus prompt, choose the last line from one of the linked poems to use as a ghostline. Remember to credit the author.
