The umbilical cord is smooth: white flesh, never exposed to light or to air until just now.
The babe is purple, blotched: the white cord wound tight around the neck. Unwound now, far, far too late.
1000 (eventually) pieces of microfiction about death, by P. Valentine Gale
The umbilical cord is smooth: white flesh, never exposed to light or to air until just now.
The babe is purple, blotched: the white cord wound tight around the neck. Unwound now, far, far too late.