As Above, So Below

by Lynette Mejía

Above, the leaves flash, autumn sky
a reel, 8mm, flickering in the shaded darkness
they flutter, ticking off the seconds as the color drains
retreats into twig, branch, and trunk
leaving them
brittle and dry

Beneath, tourists, history buffs, the curious
stroll wide-eyed, all smiles and wonder
through the gardens, along the galleries
they sip tea
admiring period pieces and well-crafted reproductions
of how things used to be

Below, the earth, blood-soaked
the stored up hatred of the unacknowledged
calls through restless bones
mending, advancing, rising
seeking an accounting that
memory knows,
deep down,
is long

Lynette Mejía writes science fiction, fantasy, and horror prose and poetry. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Redstone Science Fiction, Everyday Weirdness, Daily Science Fiction, and Strange Horizons. She is currently working on a master’s degree in English Literature at the University of Louisiana-Lafayette, and lives in the middle of a fairy tale forest in Carencro, Louisiana, with her husband, three children, six cats, one dog, and one fish.

When asked to name her favourite fruit, she replied as follows: "my favorite fruit is ripe, juicy peaches, still warm from the sun."

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