Cid V Brunet
When I was a cockroach I didn’t have all these feelings getting under my fingernails. I’d never levitate over shivering fields of organdy poppies; fog rolling in like an anthem.
I used to climb quilts as thin as the skin covering the jugular. Cross-stitched echos of sonar struck gypsum like chords. Commit to this night, she said, illuminated by a sparkler plucked from the birthday cake of a nation. Magnesium mercy extended. Don’t tell them when you will be back. Slither into the black river to swim amongst stars.
Dyslexia puts the dancer in danger. A survivor with an eye for diamonds she smuggled her snails back across the border. Three folded under each breast. Tossed confetti at the wedding of volcanoes. Where the crematorium smoke stack bent without breaking the bodies of gymnasts. In the dumpster; uncapped syringes stuffed into a two liter pop bottle, caught like a lie. Tough as komboucha leather. Poor as a hospital. Drones use my vermillion wrists as runways. Weakness becomes the salt water in which I float.
Machine Adopts Two Human Children
My fun is missing. Try wish. I’d like to rent a sun, send a lend. Is promise ok? Coming pick now. How far is jump? See cloud. Two siblings. Long lost eggs don’t fight express, don’t expect produce now. A room with two beds please e. Compare that for share! My get is working! We are now a one way force. A plane child; Amy look’s eight. Will, limit two glasses of water. Change going to result in instrument dinner. Was roll last mind red talked to glass mother? Jump not right treat? Waves stay archived. Forget stone. Let warn think on it. Would lake like die or tea? That smells complain. Can seven indicate cross don’t feel well? Open destroy window. Remain faster than fit, tone always train for that skin. Do you think it’s going to sail tomorrow? I’ve worked stick for lead and hate is very different from a bear. Create sleep ok sleep ear full with my family. Please e pleased. Soft looking for answer.
He Thinks It Impossible
for him to hurt anyone as much as he was hurt.
He cradled the long necked gourd until
the warmth between his chrysanthemums
turned her into a heron with a gut full of parasites.
They whispered to her through her bloodline.
Confused the flight out of her.
She folded her wings
cured of life.
Cid V Brunet is a creative writing student who writes poetry and short fiction. Her work has recently appeared on Strange Horizons, Words, Pauses, and Noises and in Rhapsody an anthology of Guelph writing. She lives and writes in Kitchener Ontario.
Issue 1.0 Table of Contents