In a parallel world I’m a party girl excited by background noise, pungent smoke and sweat of boys. I tend to do what I please to awestruck lovers on their knees, whose nerves are weak and pulses strong; their mal de coucou will soon be gone when I spill their blood and quell their fire, […]
Tag: Wordle
Fallen into Bedlam
She woke to the sound of a quarrel, surrounded by whitewashed narrow walls. But they couldn’t whitewash sorrow with a smattering of hollow words. It was all a masquerade, this singing in Bedlam, a one-woman parade, to escape the man who had sprayed her life with his rotten sheen, turned her into something obscene to […]
The Last Summer I Went Swimming
Eaten up by a voracious ambedo, dazzled by a blackberry-shaped cloud, I crumbled in the tide of a summer lido, where eminent locals misbehaved. Taking care not to be noticed in my one-piece swimming suit, I switched from breast-stroke to paddle, shook chlorine off my wings and took flight. Kim M. Russell, 2017 Image found […]
Hyacinth
Simple hyacinths assembled in a bowl exude sickly breath of Altschmerz and sorrow. In the cleft lattice of a flower head, a liquid pearl trickles down the insidiousness of a fading petal curl, a reminder that mortals become weak and spent, and what firmness and agility once meant to a young boy who let two […]
To the Rescue
She meanders with a heavy heart down the passage of lutalica, a world apart that makes her feel less mediocre. An assail-ant, greedy insect, skins a razor, holds it against her helpless cheek, where the indent will linger for a week. Instantly, rescue emerges from the shadows, wielding trusty bow and arrows, the Robin Hood […]
Modern Love
Passion blooms, flashover of heliotrope, innocent iridescence of hope. Unlatched in modern media, Facebook likes, Snapchat, text and tweet, they are inseparable. No shy ballet, linking arms, touching legs under a table or harmony of kisses at a station: long distance heat. One click to levitate above a situation that gets too hot. Kim M. […]
Man-Made Mayhem
A fragment of lodestone is lodged like the Snow Queen’s ice in my heart, a magnet for wytal* absurdities which are chewing my senses apart. They flock together in an ashen sky: irreversible infestations, a billowing canopy of simmering ridiculousness attracted to me. I know they are innocent and I must stay calm: pear-shaped bananas […]
