24 | Spirographing | Brown Wrapping

The motions of our bodies with no accurate scaling slipped through the froth and oil 
Too turbulent to freeze spinning passed each other into the ether
And at the furthest distance I wrote over long titles on dinner plates
Later I circled a young girl pointing to Saturn and felt nothing
Spiraling in the smoky light of the moon I was capable of only mechanical artistry
You had left 
no space                                                  for anything else
Brown Wrapping
Once I was so full up with what I thought I knew—an egg tipped on the floor will burst—unless you boil it—hard—and then it just cleaves—a mosaic of unreliable parts.
My mother poured tea with the weight of her stories in that glam sea-kelped town—borrowing portions of other plots— the veins in her wrists—like the underside of a leaf—always led back to where we started—her body a cabinet of curiosity—the stuffed fish of her cheeks—the binary code between her eyebrows—her map of wrinkles—the moon tracks lumbering lightly over her belly where things sparked wonder.
Later—when I came to understand patience—practicing turning people into hotels—hefting my reliquary of decay beneath my clothes—fucking partly dressed or wrapped in pitch—reeking of haphazard crises and splurged sheets—I could put out fires with my piss—feel the pressure of childbirth in my defecations—but then the world fell through me—sprawling on a garage forecourt so flat I could step in it.
How small it is—what I know now—the beetles of the night pipe crowd sounds— the weight of all my deeds dribble down my leg—piddling like spilt tea—leaving behind dirty brown rings of blah—if I wrap myself in paper will that stop me disappearing?

Adele Evershed is a teacher and writer. She was born in Wales and has lived in Hong Kong and Singapore before settling in Connecticut. You can find her prose on line in Every Day Fiction, Free Flash Fiction, Ab Terra Flash Fiction Magazine, and Grey Sparrow Journal. Her poetry has been published in High Shelf, bee house Journal, Tofu Ink Arts Press, Hags On Fire, The Fib Review, Shot Glass Journal, Sad Girls Club, and Green Ink Poetry. Read more at thelithag.com.