I slept at the counter with my head on the till. Each night, having failed to fill it, it filled my dreams instead

and the creaking creepy tree chiroo chiroo the night noise makes chiroo chiroo chiree

... a grotesque half-woman, half-coyote head, fixed onto the wax body of a woman.

I sit at the wheel

By: Lisa Mary Armstrong Is love a gamble or a game we must play? She promised that he’d love me till his dying day I bought a love potion...

Then, from behind the bar a melodic voice pulled him back. “What’ll it be then,” called the voice.

The average lifespan of a moth is eighteen days

bathe in the light of the absent moon

I grew you in my mind, blooming flourishes onto your perfect template.

Otherwise they could have been just about anybody.