by Zel Kuroi
The first invaders captured our strongest and greenest, leaving the weak for the stragglers. As the wintry days passed, they even turned on the tender saplings.
Their axe blows ring through our ranks, but the oldest of us, too thick to be felled, insist the invaders couldn't be happy without decorating us in their homes.
by Zel Kuroi
They mutilated me and decked my imprisoned body in baubles and lights; now my dying limbs bleed needles onto a hostile floor. Their family pictures on the mantle mock me with festive smiles.
I can reach the fireplace with one limb and the curtains with another. Let my dry corpse kindle the flames of revenge.
by Zel Kuroi
I'm so afraid at first. But the tiniest among them welcome me and give me handmade trinkets to wear on my branches. They cover the shame of my aching stump with brightly colored packages and gather their elders around me and laugh and sing.
I won't live long, but maybe this can be my home.
by Zel Kuroi
She's so vivacious. Of course that's why he likes her. He hasn't touched me since the cancer started spreading.
I want it all: her thick hair, unscarred stomach, hypnotic swaying pelvis. Even that. Her license says donor, and a bullet won't damage those precious organs.
You want between her legs, honey? Look closer at mine.
by Zel Kuroi
I play that weird CD you gave me, some indie junk you think is so sensitive. I figure there's no better time than a cross-country drive to get in all that listening I meant to do.
The first song talks about breaking up with a selfish jerk. So do you, from the passenger seat.
by Zel Kuroi
Yesterday I drank all the water I could. It was the next best thing to submerging myself in a pond to soak, and it kept the sobs down. Today I woke up with semi-permeable skin, and your scornful words sliced through all over again and bisected my heart.
Tomorrow I'll work on my poison glands.
by Zel Kuroi
The roiling clouds overhead are settling, their aggregation aborted. The hail no longer pings on the roof of my car, and the raindrops lancing down like spears disperse into gentle misting sheets.
Because their orchestrator is in the trunk, his massive wings crammed in and folded out of joint. There will be no judgment today.
by Zel Kuroi
We're so clever in texts. You're a wet noodle when I hug you and you've never held my hand, but we text the deepest indie rock quotes back and forth like conversation. Conversations you start.
If I can find the right quote, witty and well-timed, maybe someday you'll kiss me with your mouth open.
by Zel Kuroi
Bananas mashed in a coffee cup. It's what she fed me when we couldn't afford store-bought. She reluctantly parts her toothless gums for the spoon, fighting her humiliating dependence. I hope this registers in her meager memory.
She might still be too little. But when she has me again, I want my bananas mashed.
by Zel Kuroi
She tells her mother over the phone that it’s still too painful to think about the crash. But I don’t understand; I didn’t even get hurt. And why is she no longer pregnant? Did we lose the baby?
I can only watch her in silence from the crib. Please, honey, don’t cry; I’m right here.
