Image © Devon Christman and Chelsea Margaret Bodnar 2019
|by Chelsea Margaret Bodnar||March 27, 2019|
After the flood, white caskets poked out from the ground like strange impacted teeth; your face and hands are real, your thoughts placed in your head meticulous by ancient aliens or ghosts. That must be it; the only way that anything makes sense. This one they gave you only ties you down, makes you recite the dictionary backwards. Good witch insists you’re capable of much more than you know, kills you with kindness, tearstained and stuck at the x’s, your hair held back in vines, an old house with tinted windows. An old window, the panes held back in lead, curved out to the street below.
Your coworker claims cashews have the same effect as Prozac. You chew your Prozac, peppery and acrid like persimmon, and think about that; its soft grey tendrils slip into your comfort zone and lock. Your body a housefire not attracting even last-string local news. You wheel your cameras out and take the shot since someone has to, sure the story will develop, breakout role, maybe there are fireworks in foundation. Livor mortis dappling your hips from deskjob, you unfurl out onto street, someone’s murdering me, you whisper loud, come quick, you guys, and check.
Chelsea Margaret Bodnar / 1990 / milquetoast with teeth. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in: Sad Girl Review, Rogue Agent, The Bennington Review, Wyvern Lit, Thirteen Myna Birds, Menacing Hedge, Freezeray, and others. Her first chapbook, Basement Gemini, was released in 2018 by Hyacinth Girl Press.
By day, Devon Christman is a mild-mannered coordinator for an ethics board overseeing clinical research trials. By night, Devon is still mild-mannered, but does more art related things. Her preferred medium is paint, although she has recently started dabbling in crocheting, set design, and collage. She graduated from Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, NY with a BFA in Art History. She currently lives in Pittsburgh, PA.