In the belly of the night, I stumbled upon you on your hands and knees.
Measure me with string you’d asked,
but I only had a switchblade in my hand.
Then carve a name, you’d said, make sure it’s a good one.
The light of the moon was stark and white. It made my shadow look like a demon. It made your skin look like
a wish.
I can’t keep finding you like this, I said.
You were still facing the ground in a broken noir. Your nerves, loose cables. Your mind, a rock in
my hand.
I thought if I could keep you from the light, you wouldn’t run off.
But here you are and here I am, two siblings rotting from within.
Stop looking
The words came with a kiss from the ground. I fell to my hands and knees,
missing the stumble, the bar
of your leg tripping me. How did I get here?
When did we trade places?
Measure me with string I said.
Beneath my scratched palm was a switchblade. In yours,
some string.
The cold ground was splitting beneath us. My spine curled to get a better view. Between the pieces, I swear I
saw something move.
There isn’t enough you said.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the rift.
You thought if you could hide, they’d finally let you in. But here you are and
here I am
beneath the bright, big moon.
Body like a hole.
Mouth like a sword.
What will you do? I asked.
The words left me with a kick to my side. You fell to your hands and knees, crying. We used to play leap frog like this. We used to be pirates on a spaceship.
I’m not afraid of you you said, and together, we
watched the rift widen.
I’m just a weak person I explained, and as you went to drop the string into the chasm, that looked like a mouth, that looked like a wound
I took that switchblade and carved a name into your throat.
Impactful. I enjoyed it.