by Lori Lamothe
All of a sudden, that's what the story would say, but how would it start? I don't know — can only tell you that the capital letter that opens these curtains is green, as in Once upon a Time, on the first weekend of hunting season I walked out forgetting into green. Dusk slid down my arms, unraveled across my back. Pines on both sides of me turned to watch, scattered needles at my feet. Wind sang hymns in glacial time, blue arched over silence and at the end of the aisle the groom was leaning on a shotgun. His tux glowed orange against stained glass sky. His eyes fixed me at the intersection of violence and escape. I walked all the way to the altar but repeated no vows — went on walking never stopping or looking back
Lori Lamothe's poems have appeared or are forthcoming in 42opus, Blackbird, jellyfish, Linebreak, Melusine, St. Sebastian Review and other magazines. At the present moment, her obsessions are Victorian architecture, selkies, Joan of Arc, Midnight Magic coffee, Alice Hoffman, speculative fiction and anything Gothic. If you're interested in finding out more about her odd interest in seal-women you can read her story "Scarves," which appears in the new anthology Corpus Pretereo (Escape Collective Publishing). You can find more of her poetry here.
If the coffee bean were a fruit, she would undoubtedly choose that as her favorite. But she also has a terrible weakness for chocolate desserts topped with raspberries.
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