fungus – Jessica Barratt

The Fold

It comes to me waking and in dreams: both an image, and a vision. In it I lay down and watch the tilt of the trees turn upward as my head rests to soft earth. Down here it smells sweeter….

No one notices when you slip away, even in the bright orange light of a late autumn afternoon. Instead they sit on their daisy porches unaware of the chill in the air, complaining idly about the Penchant house’s awful lawn. “It’s rats,” says one of them, sipping a sour lemonade. “It’s this drought!” coughs another,Continue reading “Devil’s Fingers”