To my brother who I hope lives through high school

To my brother who I hope lives through high school

To my brother who I hope lives through high school 1920 1280 Meaghan Curley

Miles away,
a teen with a mouth full of fire ants
devours children and no one stops him,
not until the McDonald’s parking lot
is an ocean of bones.
A goblin in suit scavenges what he can for his masters.

Miles away,
a retiree in headset takes orders
from cheap static.
A pruned tongue comes to lick the floor
until the lobby smells as purified and
unatoned as the inside of a bank.

My break ended fifteen minutes after I spot
my baby brother’s femur on the lobby TV.
I sob under a booth until a customer
catches me and
crouches down onto their brotherly knees
to ask
if the Ice Cream Machine is working.

Header photograph © Skye Savage.

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