The corridor outside Señor Gil’s office was still and airless, as if even the building was holding its breath. Sunlight stretched across the tiled floor in pale bands. From down the hall, the faint clatter of cutlery echoed from the canteen, accompanied by a burst of laughter and the metallic slam of a tray against the counter.
Rivera stood beside a row of faded blue chairs – las sillas de la muerte, as the students called them. The death chairs. It was where they sat waiting – after fights, after failures – in that heavy silence that always lingered before a meeting with the Headmaster. Rivera didn’t sit.
His arms were folded, jaw locked, eyes fixed on the patch of floor where the light stopped.… ...continue reading
When I moved into my first apartment, my mother created a garage sale for me in her dining room. It was to help me start my new life. Onto the long wooden dining table, she piled mismatched plates, fancy platters, and strange old serving bowls. It was a vegetable medley of leftover dinnerware that overflowed onto the hulking wooden hutch in the hall. The hutch usually hosted only the side dishes my mother hated, like macaroni and cheese or anything my Aunt brought.
I found the Pyrex bowls pushed into the corner of the hutch, a set of three, each snuggled into the other like Russian nesting dolls, and made of milky white glass with bright turquoise patterns along the sides. I touched the stylized rooster with my pinky, feeling the raised bumps of the paint on the smooth glass.… ...continue reading
When I talk of home,
home is a beautiful girl
that has lost all her dignity.
I step in this cold chamber,
my feet kissing the ground
in a tip toe.
I enter this lonely room
like a discarded brick
standing in the vastness
of the rough walls—
walls that for long
pitched my skin off
to feed the raw hunger
of a fatherly figure.… ...continue reading
Tonight was going to be her last. The resident was certain.
It was difficult to believe a doctor without two years’ experience in the field of, well, anything as important as the impending death of a spouse.
Not just a spouse.
Catherine is still my spouse.
That is until I can invoke the “til death do us part” clause in our marriage.
That is, if she lives up to even that vow.
It all began when I met Catherine bowling on a Friday night twelve years ago. She was with a few of her friends. I was with a few of my friends. The lanes were crowded and she suggested the six of us should share a lane. That offer was made to all of us. … ...continue reading
Sophia grunts against the dead weight of her mother, chest pressing to shoulder in a mock lover’s embrace. Protestations follow, wallowing from both parties as she resists, pushing against the one she thrust from a womb now turned coat and traitor.
“Ay, mama. Please,” Sophia begs, voice muffled by the down pillows as they careen back and forth, the slow decay scent of funeral lilies wafting with every sway.
With the taught rubber band of her spine close to snapping, Sophia lays her mother down again and wriggles her fingers between the sweat and soiled linens until they meet in the middle, clasping them together. Now cheek to cheek, they pant the labor of their efforts in the shallow pools of their necks. Sophia waits to exhale on her final breath, then just as her mother releases hers, she yanks her upright and forward, using the last bit of her strength and marrying it to the bitter taste in the back of her throat.… ...continue reading
He installed a zipper above his heart,
to ease the opening and closing of it.
At first without a key,
until he grew annoyed how,
during warm weather,
people would open or close it
based on their own whims.
So he added a lock,
had a few keys made,
gave them out.
Then the same problem emerged,
people letting themselves in even when
he didn’t want them to,
even those he thought he could trust.
So he got a combination lock instead,
memorized the code and never gave it out.
Years went by and one morning
he woke and, when he went to unzip
his sternum to play with his heart for a few minutes,
he discovered that he’d forgotten the combination.
From then on, opening his chest
would be impossible
without risking serious injury.… ...continue reading
A bitter breeze amongst the lonely seas.
Rogue wave…….^…..
Pricks my ears and dries my tears.
Rogue wave growing….^….
A single prayer that bleeds bare.
Rogue wave growing stronger….^..
Bleak downcast on the forecast.
Rogue wave growing stronger and..^…
I surrender to the fears I render.
Rogue wave growing stronger and
overtaking….^…….I’m drifting.
Rogue wave growing stronger and
overtaking my….^…I’m denying.
Rogue wave growing stronger and
overtaking my mind..^..I’m drowning.
Rogue wave growing stronger and
overtaking my mind as…^.saline kisses
Rogue wave growing stronger and
overtaking my mind as …^gasping.
Rogue wave growing stronger
and overtaking my mind as I submerge^
– Steve Oehmen… ...continue reading