conversation with disapproving mimi every time she sneaks out to sniff

by Eirene Gentle

If I explained why the dog ran away you would not be looking at me with that hitch in your lip. Arms a bridge truss at your chest like you think I might bark. I might bark.

If you knew how the door unlocked and swung open with that little jitter hitch in its hydraulics like swallowed air and malevolent digestion. Do you know spleens make the most persistent ghosts? And prefer places with short walkways? I bear the fur of Finnian on my skinned knee. Would you like to know how I skinned it or just keeping looking at me in that crawly way? You have seen a ghost, it’s right behind me and wears yellow, as ghosts do.

Anyway the DOG you say with your aspirated hiss. That rattle is an undiagnosed killer. There are rowboats with suctions you can place on pulse points, like cupping.  Can you see now why the dog ran away? Me neither. Put your clipboard down and come in. Your bowl’s waiting.

Photo of Eirene Gentle

BIO: Eirene Gentle writes lit, mostly little, usually from Toronto, Canada. Happy to be published in some great journals. Was told to pound salt and is seriously considering it.