Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Surgical Day

She smiles a Cheshire Cat Grin and gives me a Valium.
Radiation-needle markers disguise themselves as tortured croquet wickets.
I fret while talking to the White Rabbit.
I’m rolling down toward the Mad Hatter.
My laughter paints the tension red.
The anesthesiologist visits, breathing drugs.
“Off with your breasts.”
“It’s the Queen.”
“Tea time.”

- Mary Ellen Letarte

This piece originally appeared in 55 Fiction.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

The Arrival of Morning

“I’m not gonna miss this meteor shower,” says Fiona as
she lies down on the blanket with her digital
camera, some Mr. Chips and her iPod. Eyes
closed, she thinks about the praises she’ll
get when she shows the pictures
to her class. Suddenly she
hears, “Wake up, Sweetie!”
It’s Mom. “Breakfast
is getting

This piece originally appeared in Paperbag Writes.