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Flash Fiction


Poetry by Alison Daniel


Watering the Moon

Slim hips hide the crescent moon
three nights before walking the path
to vertebrae, shoulder blades, the small
of his back ripples water.

Sea foam, white stone, marble
torso moans from eyes staring
at the torch while they wait for hands
soaked by scent when she rides
him like a bull until they fall
like animals in the morning.



Moving On

Green leaves whisper
the morning I travel to Thebes
wearing the garland
of ivy and oak.

I burn when I wake to warm
blood water from the milky
shower of finger tips
slippery on the vine.

Honey drips and never dries.
I'm naked
waiting for the dance you said
you're moving on.

I believe a rainbow snake
is the truth I 'll wind round your wrist
like a leather belt buckling
bent kisses to earth.

It's split like a cave
caked in graffiti when you see
me writhe
amongst inky sheets.

My tongue parts your lips.
I touch myself.
You smell the perfumed pulse
shouting 'yes!'

but I don't know how it will end
if this frenzy is blessed without tearing
you limb from limb. There is worship

when Bacchus drips honey.
The salt is sweat
sprinkled flesh to flesh
before one thousand different goodbyes.




About the Author


I live an isolated yet relatively content life in Tasmania, Australia. I'm hoping someone will let me out soon but in the meantime I've shacked up with Unlikable Steve, an ex-stripper who unfortunately lost his g-string but all the other equipment is fine.

My work has been published in these zines: Conspire, Stirring, The Hive, OutsiderInk, Recursive Angels, Clean Sheets, Opium Magazine, Poor Mojo's Almanac(k), Mentress Moon and many others.