by | Jun 11, 2024 | Fiction, Issue Thirty-Nine

My lids are scarcely ajar when exodus skydives. An eye for an eye; my stirring pupils for a brooding, binocular lens, a grey scope that catches me at its centre.

Diameter: 0.5cm

When did its leap commence? I, only now, am clocking on; my line of vision is still marked by the haze of sleepy absence. Rattling in the breeze, the eclipse sways as the gust carries me, left, right, left – though the dark circle’s edges smoothen as the blur drains from my retina. The pixels fall, one at a time, bested by my increasing consciousness: drop, drop away. An eye for an eye: an obscurity unveiled; r2 swelling.

Diameter: 1cm

It is as though the chlorophyll seeps out of me. Another trading game: a newfound intimate view for my green pigment, darkening, swallowed by the shadow spreading ever wider upon and around me; now I am almost seaweed. It seems the spaceship stole the sun. Now then, for good measure, it is feeding and feeding on it, nothing wasted, growing and growing. Its product is the night. Peace? My neighbours ripple gently in their unknowing doze; only dreams within their hollow stems.

Diameter: 2cm

To be the lookout, the detective: an honour most high. High but the sky is low; a black that might be brown that might be oak that might be mahogany. The alders across the way were always too distant; their shades and contours lost in the distance between us. But now I see every crevice as the barrel descends…

And yet it might be square.

Diameter/length: 3cm

It has me at point-blank range. For every grain of soil, for every sheath among the crowd, the spotlight bathes me in its void. The mahogany void that might be oak that might be brown that might be black. Its deepest tones are harboured in the centroid, staring me down. I think but I do not know. But I discern a pointed edge at its middle, whose lacerating focus won’t free itself from the tuft upon my head. Leaning in for a kiss. To offset the chill bestowed with its masking lips, I think but I do not know.

Diameter/length: 4cm*

*(Approximation; who can gage just how far the sky stretches?)

Now the night sits above my tip, I see it comes to tuck me into bed. Draw the curtains, draw the light out of the air; its shadow fabric is embroiled ever faster, faster, r2 swelling, hovering over me, swelling, the blackout blinds suspended; the shutters taking my peripheral as it’s prize, an eye for an eye, mine subsumed into the omniscient clasp of the midnight draping over, and it is draping,


draping –

Diameter: me, my tissue-paper body bent double, the shaft of earth I’ve carved since birth, now home to a mounted post and its barbed-wire wings.

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