Page 38

Kite

Jessica Mannion

spun spindle full of filament stretched out and shining—stretched— so far in sky so brimful blue it almost makes you cry— the end of it—that string-part twined around the spool—how stupid— wasn’t tied—! how stupid—careless—children are— it’s lost the kite the bad-blue ate it up— and happy past-time’s flown away to sad— the boy who held it trailed along behind eyes just that shade of blue as sky to search it out—so sad—the kite—the string— so long—ate up by thunderous nothing-clouds and yet he watched the sky ‘til he forgot what bright sharp shape it held will you remember then, the boy? ate up by nothing thundering to life to rend the flesh it fed upon to silence— rendered itself as seen in only too-late cat-scans, MRIs, and tests— rendered as x-ray clouds that glow when held to artificial light. but he would never choose that, no, that hopeless clutch to make-believe nor fuss about the details: “take me home,” he said, and so we watched the string furl out we knew it wasn’t tied that there was not a knot to stop his soul from flying when the string— ran out. 38

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Alliterati Issue 4  

Welcome to Alliterati Magazine Issue 4! The following pages are filled with the creative offerings of writers and artists stretching from th...

Alliterati Issue 4  

Welcome to Alliterati Magazine Issue 4! The following pages are filled with the creative offerings of writers and artists stretching from th...

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