1545 6 2
|
Her fingers scampered over the table, practicing the deft stitching of the basilar artery.
|
154533
|
You were sitting on dark leather meringue, wearing slit ivy, epilated thighs sliding through, roots showing beneath your anaemic skin, fighting with the pale bluegreen of your veins. Quills extended from your left hand, bent about 10.2 degrees or so.
|
1545108
|
Toxins make a body happy/
as if acceleration toward//
an end of consciousness/
is its own reward.
|
154594
|
Not many people like Geminis.
|
154500
|
Ireland - her beauty is like a drug.
|
1545116
|
She stood with her sisters, pretty maids in a row, felt cold despite the scorching spring sun. Heard what the man said but didn’t register; words from the Lord flew around her like the flighty trill of the robins up above. The birds made more sense.
|
154564
|
And she warms her hands on fresh-cut gizzards, And he forgets the taste of honeyed peaches
|
154575
|
—You must be joking, he laughed.
|
154532
|
Your grandmother has gotten old, in that way where one day you wake up, and you realize that someone you've been looking at your whole life suddenly looks different. That hands which used to gently place band-aids on scraped knees are…
|
154541
|
The way she once felt for another, naked mornings in her bed, and Young Frankenstein. Sed-a-give.
|
15451211
|
When I no longer know you, what signal will you give to remind me that you and I once loved?
|
154422
|
The fucking black dress; the fucking black dress that obfuscates whether or not you're pretty in the face, that obfuscates the sound of your voice, that obfuscates the color of your hair, your eyez, your skin,
|
154422
|
contact.
intimacy.
human
fucking
connection.
|
154400
|
Ahead, she heard voices. She approached very slowly, as quiet as possible. She knelt behind a pair of shrubs and peeked through a small opening.
|
1544104
|
Digging in another garden, jumping into another space and time, I impaled a toad on the tines of a garden fork. At first I thought the toad was a clump of clay, stuck to the thick tine, but before I could kick the clay off with my…
|
154432
|
The trash is full. Again. I open the bathroom trash—because the diaper genie is stuffed—but there’s no room. I try the kitchen next. The lid swings open, catapulting carrot shavings onto the floor. I lay the diaper on the counter for later.
|
154475
|
When you encounter a body laying on the road, drive over it.
|
1544149
|
I crave the confines of the convent
|
154431
|
If girls have keys for fingers then locks cannot hold them.
|
1544103
|
One afternoon the kids from next door come over. Marion is our age, Jimmy a year younger. Marion's pretty. I can't even look at her.
|
154474
|
You're on the Ferris wheel, and the wind is blowing just a little bit, and the sky is invisible behind a wash of white clouds, and your little yellow box tips when you look down, down to the fairway swinging. In the boxes below grandmothers are shrieking …
|
154476
|
Uh oh, the dry cleaning ticket
|
154331
|
|
154352
|
The past operates with incredible gravity. Powerful, efficient, deceptive. Thin, sleek cords sent out by it attach themselves to your back, your legs, your buttocks, the back of your head. Resist. Walk. One leg after another. Easy does it, like a baby. Do
|
154321
|
I knew I spoke out of turn when I asked my father's old friend Charlie Jobe what he thought would come of moving to the veterans' camp, or "Village of the Deranged", as the newspaper has since taken to calling it. That was their description after all the
|
154333
|
They came early and parked up, under cover of the night and the giant oak. I only know this because people told me afterwards. Watching us, they were. It was six o'clock before they smashed their way in, scaring the three of us out of our wits. Baby Billy screamed the place…
|
154397
|
It doesn't have to be force grown betweenus. We entwine naturally. It's agood feeling to have a friend who at oncedoesn't require a hothouse ceiling laidbetween each invisible touch. There's justwind. There's just rain. There's just sun. There's just you.There's just…
|
154344
|
death spoke in a swimming pool in late june:
|
1543219
|
|
154331
|
I almost forgot. Her nipples taste like that syrup from a can of peaches. The kind you aren’t supposed to eat if you are 18 or older. The kind that adds baggage to the hips and I’m certainly not about to take out an insurance policy on my ass.
|
