words are foreplay for the soul

Archive for the ‘Phantasm’ Category

July 14th, 2012 by Akua



I can see everything from up here.

You would think that three inches doesn’t make much of a difference, but you’re wrong. It makes all the difference.

It starts with corn. Ever been in a cornfield? I always thought the ears were up high, higher than my head, but no. It’s the tassels that are high. The ears grow along the stalk, like cocoons stuck to a pole.

Corn always reminded me of teeth.

But it’s the tassels I am thinking about now. Being up high like this, I can see them for what they are. They’re sex! Come here, they say. Come and get me! I have no idea how corn plants go from tassels to ears, but there you go.

Up here everything is quiet. Read the rest of this entry »

July 10th, 2012 by Akua



I really thought this would be different.

I remember where she started. Two eyes, a dot for a nose, and a chalky curved line smile. Suddenly I am blinded by bright hotness from above. Glittering bluewhitebright, and I can’t even close my eyes to get away from it.

You probably don’t know this, but it’s nearly impossible to draw a perfectly round circle. It took her 27 tries to get this. All that smeared-finger rubbing, spit wiping me away and then gritty chalk bringing me back into being. I would shudder right now, thinking about it, but as I hardly have shoulders I can’t.

Everyone says this, and I know it’s trite, but: I hate my hair. It hurts. Your hair probably doesn’t hurt, does it? Spikes driven into your roundish skull? I thought not. No, your hair lies there, softly, awaiting caresses. Mine is — what? — Brillo? A bed of nails? No one will ever caress it. Read the rest of this entry »

July 5th, 2012 by Akua



I should have known my new job was going to get me in trouble, but the pay was really good and I really thought I could make it through the six month probationary period to get health benefits, because we all know that anyone is way more marriageable once they have the bennies, and I already have the PERFECT to-die-for wedding dress picked out even thought I’m not actually, you know, dating anyone.

So anyway, every morning I’d get my usual skinny vanilla venti soy latte and sit at the bus stop trying not to pick at my fingernails. I’m trying to grow them out, honest, and even though my therapist says it’s not exactly  OCD, I can Google like anyone else, thank you. I really thought that the gloves were going to help me with that, covering up the bleeding red sides of my fingers where I chew the skin off. I had no idea that newly made rubber gloves (oh — maybe you didn’t know this? But rubber gloves aren’t even rubber? They’re made of latex, same thing as condoms. Who knew?) actually sting when you put them on, all hot and melty from the balloon things that they dry on. Read the rest of this entry »

July 2nd, 2012 by Akua



Really, the only reason I wear four-inch heels? It’s the kitty litter. On the floor. All crunchy. You know what I’m talking about, right?

Okay. True story. Once I had this thing on my foot. A mole. It was there for, like, ever. And then something happened to it. Maybe it was all the tanning beds, I don’t know. But the damn thing changed! Grew a face! Okay, I knew you wouldn’t believe me. Look at you. You have your I-don’t-believe-it-face on. I can tell what you’re thinking. But listen. This happened, right?

So the mole. The face. Remember? Well, the thing got bigger. And bigger. Pretty soon I couldn’t wear shoes. I had these Crocs? You know, the plastic shoes with holes? Yeah, I had some. And that was okay for a while. I’d just stay home and pet the cat, anyway. I mean, I had a goddamn FACE on the side of my foot, right? What else could I do? Read the rest of this entry »

June 28th, 2012 by Akua

Hand of god


I’ve often idly wondered what would happen if a gigantic hand  reached down out of the clouds above Seattle and pulled the Space Needle up from its roots. Sometimes when we’re standing overlooking I-5 and Lake Union below, Queen Anne across the lake spread out like a tawdry wench, I think about giant hands.

“There would be mass chaos,” my soulmate says. “Anarchy. Screaming. Martial law.”

I can’t really imagine the aftermath of a giant hand reaching down out of the clouds. I think of it as a mystical thing. Magic. Like the boom-boom-boom sound I heard from my front yard when I was 3, convinced there was a giant on its way to my house to eat me. I hid under my bed for hours and no one ever came looking for me. But a giant hand? That feels friendly somehow. Comforting. I think people would feel better if they thought there really was some guy up there in the clouds looking after us, even if he did take away the Space Needle. Read the rest of this entry »

June 27th, 2012 by Akua



Hot sand crunched underfoot. Hotfoot shrieky tiptoes onto cool blankets and beach towels. Warm salty water, buoyant waves. Somewhere there’s a fire, a smoky-warm cloud wafting across the sand. Maybe the lottery wasn’t real, wasn’t going to happen, wasn’t going to take its tithing tenth in just over an hour.

The war machine waited, waited with hungry mouth and tail, waited for its food, waited just off shore while the food played at being unconcerned, unnoticing, festive beachgoers playing and sunning at the seaside.

Mothers slathered sunscreen onto reddening shoulders. Kids dug sandy trowels deeper into cool wet holes. Fathers dug quarters out of pockets for sweet cold treats. Read the rest of this entry »

June 24th, 2012 by Akua

Blue balloon


Some things are fleeting. Her voice was ragged from the lack of oxygen. Her thoughts flew, rising until they too thinned like the wisps of cloud above her.

The crowd in the square far below dwindled into dots of color. The moving dots arranged and rearranged, tiny puzzles pixelating. Pointillism, she thought, and arranged the dots again to suit her. Now they were a giraffe. Now a house with comforting smoke rising from its brick chimney. Now a giant mouth reaching towards her.

She shuddered and rose higher, looking now over the cathedral’s roof. Below, the dots shifted again and a cry rose from the crowd, a thin piercing wail that froze her cold. Read the rest of this entry »