November 3, 2014

“He chewed while I desperately whispered, Chicken corpse, chicken corpse. Sometimes the man offered me meat. He gave it to me on a spoon, the meat laid across the rounded edges, and then he tapped the spoon against my mouth. He wanted me to swallow and while I voided on his command, I couldn’t take that chicken into my mouth. All I could think of were chicken corpses. Chicken ghosts pecking at the ground. Chickens in the front yard, chickens in the attic, chickens roasting in the boiler. The house was filled with ghosts. All the dead women were still here even after their meat was scattered. Parts of them were left behind. The ghosts brushed against my hair gently while I slept.”

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