a mother forms a mother
forms a mother holds her
son holds his mother holds
her son a father holds his
daughter a mother forms
a mother forms a mother
That ˈSən within you, Moon, came into me.
Earth now fruits, but the decapitating sickle claims
my flesh grows scales untouchable to fire-breathing
serpents saturate near cavern jaws, giant mind-body
vacuum cleaners with vaginal canals descending
into wombs, expelling that Sən―the Sun and Son―
within you, Moon.
Upon her breast, Moon, Earth gives me that forbidden
nectar of Eucharist, the serpent’s venom
says: To he whom ˈnōz the Moon, sickles her snares.
The day was ripe for a barbecue. A plate of marinated chicken chunks were ready for the grilling. The only thing missing was the fire itself. But Melanie Garrison and her husband, Freddy Straggers, disagreed at first.
The two debated the subject for an hour until they reached the conclusion that the fire was indeed the only thing missing.
After an equally long brainstorming session, the two theorized that the box of matches on the picnic table was the key. Melanie Garrison picked up the box and shook it, hoping that the rattle would summon the fire. Freddy arrogantly shook his head. He took the box from Melanie’s teeth and took the matches out. He dropped the matches into the grill without striking them and waited.
He grew agitated. Where is the fire? he thought.
Having accepted defeat, Melanie and Freddy went out to the dock and smoked themselves a cigarette.
Sgt. Ray Fracalossy wandered from his squad intent on catching the two hands extending in front of him. Suddenly, a camoflauge-faced enemy sprang forth from the bushes with a weapon in hand.
“Rock beats scissors!” shouts the enemy.
Ray Fracalossy is seized and thrown in with the other prisoners on time out.
Thumbing through the channels, an infomercial caught the attention of Kirsten Hoover’s phone dials. Having dieted before with little success, she finalized a transaction that promised instant results.
In an instant, she began itching. Feathers blossomed throughout her body. She yearned for eggs to lay.
“What is this?” she attempted to say, but only chirps came out. “How can I lose weight like this?” she thought.
In a flap of a wing she was airborne and in the opposite hemisphere, which was the wrong migration zone.
By the time she flapped back, the weight she struggled with had all disappeared. Then she was shot down by a hunter who liked bird meat.