“You’d Think I Was Boy Crazy” and “The Inside of my Mouth is Covered in Sores” by Amelia Kester
You’d Think I Was Boy Crazy
Aside from the stones, the coins in his mouth. None of the boys I write about are real. He lies back on a messy bed and puts his hands up, over, makes a cat’s cradle with a yo-yo. He’s never slept. He’s drooling mint. He has never seen the ocean and I can make him do whatever I want. He has arms for lacing over chests. You’d think I was boy crazy. I’m busy. I’m climbing up the mountain. I pick up little pieces of fire I find as I walk along the trail and put them in my hair. They look like nice horns.
The Inside of my Mouth is Covered in Sores
Until we can quantify the vast white underbelly of the rabbit stretching across the sky of the tundra, I can say nothing to you, until we mark it off into segments, I can give you no answer. We follow each other in circles where the frozen brown dirt of the ground makes the shape. I’m glad you wear that little necklace, I’m glad it brings you peace. Me, I can’t think about ghosts. I go crazy. (From your sleeve you offer me an inkstone and brush. I take it, and, standing on a wooden step stool, begin to draw a map on the rabbit’s fur.) Cat heads. Thank you.
(Some time passes.) That’s how I kept from disappearing.
(Some time passes.) I can’t touch anything but portions of meat.
(Some time passes.) Going north, my friend, go north, go north.
Amelia Kester is an 18-year-old sense of hazy nostalgia. She is currently preoccupied with pursuing a BFA in creative writing in New Hampshire and trying to get all of this strange, liquid light off of her hands. You can find her on Twitter at @tsukum_, or her Tumblr is http://secretendings.tumblr.com.