There is a horse, but it is dead. There is a girl, but she is just a body in an empty house. There is a mother and a trust fund baby and a stepdad who doesn’t like her—forget this. Forget the tanning bed or the indoor bike; forget the flat-screen playing films in black and white. Forget the giant chessboard on the manicured lawn, the envelopes filled with hundred-dollar bills; forget the compulsive lying about the chemotherapy. Forget the drug-dealing bum who can’t find someone his own age, and the .45 semi-automatic left safely on the grill. We’ll get to that. And definitely forget the tranquilizer in the drink someone else takes for you, the yellowness of rubber gloves. Actually, forget the gun; it’s been stolen. There is a letter, but you’ve thrown it away before anyone’s had the chance to read it. Forget the framed picture, forget the metal taste that blood leaves in your mouth
CJ Peradilla is a poet and fictionist from the Philippines. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in modern haiku, GARLAND (fifth wheel press), Haikuniverse, LIWAYWAY, Mountain Beacon, and elsewhere. She is the author of the chapbook Molten Light and maintains a blog at here. CJ has also appeared in petrichor fourteen.
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