under a hand-me down
moon, she cooed, then went frigid. she told me how she discarded the
memory of her father, how it became so light, flying up, then turning
solid. it did an about face, became an asteroid, hit the earth &
part of it lodged inside her, just missing the heart. for weeks, i
tried pulling it out of her. She said Please stop, daddy, it
hurts. when i finally removed the piece of rock-father, she said
she felt nothing for me, that our love was dead. on the phone, she
hummed while I was talking, made little noises like crackles, then
hung up. sometime later, an astronomer who just lost his wife,
claimed mars went missing. at the drive-in, i watched a james dean
movie, some broken glass in the seat next to me. it was from the
window I didn't bother to replace, the one she threw a rock through
just to prove that I was still a part of her.
____________________________________________________
BIO: Kyle Hemmings is a what? A moon cake. A subvervise astronaut. A mama's
boy with claws. Kyle Hemmings is who you want him to be. He has been
published elsewhere.
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