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In the fishmonger's shop
a knife diving into the white belly of a haddock
finds the heart of an artichoke, nestled among the organs

a hysterical screaming condor
flaps out from the pages when the lady professor
takes the book off the shelf and opens the cover
it claws at the ceiling — she regards it through her glasses


mother killed herself only once but it hurt like more


The maid cleans out the unused bedroom
she wipes childhood dust from the wood of the wardrobe
the old toy chest yawns open and expels a nude woman
her hair tangles in front of her face and gets caught in her mouth
the way she walks reminds the maid of a colt still learning its legs

Discuss    About the Author   Read More


About Twinklewinklestinkle Dinklehinkle


I dreamed of writing professionally since a young age, but due to family and monetary constraints, I dropped out of high school and took up several part-time jobs instead. My first and real passion, though, has always been literature, and since the recent death of my grandfather, I've begun sending out my own work. My pen name is a joke, and a promise, I had with my grandfather, who was the only member of my family to encourage my writing.

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