Still Life, With Sharks Circling

Daddy’s head was like a jack-in-the-box out of which a
second head might pop. You could sense the tension in his
crank. Mommy put us to bed like Mrs. Goebbels. It was her
job to believe the propaganda. Wherever our bodies came
to rest she placed a sign that read: For Rent.

&

I’m a human sacrifice born too late. Life feels like the
wrong area code. Whenever I see those ducks hanging
upside down in a Chinese window, I feel like I’m on the
outside looking in. Life feels like the window in the way of
something better, more intense.

&

Everything I write has a backdoor thrown wide open. That’s
where the draft comes from, the emptiness you sense.
That’s how I escaped, the knife bleeding in my hand. I
killed no one. I cut myself free. Sorry about the mess in the
kitchen. I left behind what I could live without.