Issue #54


Authors

‘I HAVE CONCOCTED A TALE ABOUT MYSELF. I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT MEANS. SOMETHING ABOUT IT IS TOO-TRUE.’ IT BEGINS WITH

A fried cloud.

Hovers out of her arms into my lap, gushing from a blue-striped plate, surprised by

A spider in my cup.

Frightens her. Is a door slammed by a ghost. It mices her. Mouses. Rats her out. Cats

her to stay forever-in. The china slashes my leg into

A lump.

Of my flesh glomps on the withered deck underneath our three-legged table. It

starts to grow into a snowman. Says, ‘your heart froze last winter.’ Or maybe it was

fall, November, wrought with salt-water birthday candles, memorizing the cool

Askew leaves.

Suddenly conceal her face. She is smothering. I try to pluck them out from her eye

lashes. She is sobbing. She is sorry. I am so sorry, but I chuckle. I rip the departings

out of her throat. Say: ’tell me what you’re thinking.’ She: ‘the leaves tell me my

touch turned you limestone.’ I: ‘don’t worry, I still love you.’ I think her cauldron is

at

A boiling point.

is my mouth. It won’t stay still. I want to banshee, but I cinch the corners up in a nice

bow. She: ‘you’re my smiley girl.’ How do I break that promise? Mostly, my foxfire

muzzle wants to be masquerading. Them: ‘laughter was his legacy.’ I: ‘Fine, I will

lamp-shine someone’s day.’ Their gift-smile accomplishes the empty part of me. But

only for a little while. I:  ‘am sorry’, I chuckle, I feel clumpy. How can I: ‘please

forgive me for being sad.’ (I’m the only one of us left perpendicular.) How can I: ‘just

let me take a break from being a backbone.’ (I’m over-risen. Chiropractic.) How can

I: ‘I have panic attacks, I hallucinate I hug our house-frame on my graham-cracker

shoulders and if I’m not smiling then none of us are how can I tell them wouldn’t

they hate me would they or us be able to handle something gentle if all I can do is

crack it’? Don’t worry, I’m

smiling.

Dyke Boots

To My Father