The words have gone missing, only the commas and the long dashes remain, silence scratching like nib on an empty paper. The speech is shorn of accents, and the voice, like inside of an old soup bowl, flat, and moldy too. I have seen on highways deer petrified with fear by my car headlights, courting death. Opal eyes stared at me, mesmerised by annihilation, small ribs forgetting to breathe. In the furrow between ribs  soft down got stirred by breeze, a gentle movement as that could affirm life.

(In response to Luisa A. Igloria’s ‘Charmed Life’)


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