Contributor: David Calbert

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I found your bobby pin
Slid absently in my jacket sleeve
I brought it to my nose
Hoping it retained a whisper
Of your perfume

I have dreams that I’m
A river
Bastard body scooping
Muddy fingernails through
A dry riverbed
In the valley of Apotheosis

The thirsty dust sizzles and shrieks
Like pork fat bubbling in a skillet early Sunday morning
Grease trap to catch discarded
Cartilage that dreamed of once
Hardening into bone

I found your bobby pin
As blameless as a wasp sting
It sang off my buttons
But gave away nothing


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David Calbert lives in California. He writes fiction, essay, the occasional poem, and is still trying to find his place. He also tends to drink whiskey and talk about bad ideas for horror movies.