MAYHEM - Issue Four

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Aimee-Jane Anderson-O'Connor


Strangled whimpers
beneath spider spun lace,
She sits
despairing child,
clutching at Her sides to keep Her stitches in,
the thump of meat on unmopped floor.

She turns toward me
and I
with an affinity for the broken and
step forward.
My throat closes,
stifles acid.

Her eyes rest upon me
crackle upon my skin and keep burning like
the shower when
a distant cold tap is turned on and kept there.

The lace yellows,
breaks off in rigid clumps
and She reaches out,
I reach too,
grasp a chipped ceramic bowl,
the same mottled blue of
an argument gone wrong.

The bowl is empty but I smile,
spoon in hand
and begin to swallow air.

Contributor's Note
Aimee-Jane Anderson-O’Connor is in her final year of a Bachelor of Arts at the University of Waikato. Her work has appeared in Starling and Tearaway Magazine thanks to the Waikato writing programme and the tireless support of some of the best people on this great watery rock.