Today the gods rained salt
onto open-mouth skin.
I saw rats waver and shake
on plastic bucket edges
after free samples were served
behind the garbage bin.
They say it tasted like almonds.
Stoned snails shrivel up
in the light of the morning sun
or drown in the disk of jubilant drink. But take this with a grain of salt
like a shot of sweet cyanide.
Now the ground inflicts its chemical burns. Moisture pulled out in bubbling blisters as frothing faces warn of the end. It’s all too harsh for soft bodies like mine.
But there’s still joy:
Cat food still tastes good.
Sky is a second-year transfer student and a Creative Writing major at Southern Oregon University. They are often drawn to the surreal, the odd, and the overlooked and try to bring this focus into their writing. Sky hopes their work reaches the reader emotionally and has them consider their everyday experiences in a different light.
Main Squeeze Literary Journal 