Through

A.z. Louise

118 words
Content Warnings: insects

he was at my side in his ugly
when I first began to notice my own bends and folds
funhouse mirror gateways
to things so long unconsidered they were maggoty
 

 
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his fingers were bottleneck-cold
plumbing the depths of corridors that ran straight to my center
places made warm and wet
by breaths that carried a whisper of monster

 
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no hands could remove the mountains of me
though I picked them clean
trying to dig down past the fat of the event horizon
to a home he could not occupy

 
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sometimes when I am lonely in my beastliness
I look in on him to remember
peering through years and worlds of one-way glass
at the things I have outgrown
 

 

A.Z. Louise is a civil engineer-turned-writer of speculative things, whose conjure keeps them company during the writing process. When not reading or writing, they can be found playing folk harp, knitting, or arguing with their sewing machine.