Like lace


Itsuki always dances behind cob webs

There, he can manifest several shapes

and pick which one he likes


Sometimes I help him move,

for he has no control over his particles

He is like lace,

weightless and transparent


Sometimes I worry I will injure him

if I want to kiss his cheek bone

or cradle his hands


If he would beg for my love,

I might be happy

If he would look at me and blush,

I might feel gorgeous


Today when he performs,

I tilt against the fireplace mantel,

hands gripping my elbows,

eyes exhausted with longing


I wish I could be a ghost

and be afraid of myself

for a good reason



Mournful  moments


I imagined myself dancing,

arms out to cuddle lonely spirits,

eyes closed to feel powerless


I imagined someone told me I was handsome

and didn’t need to smile

I imagined I was in Japan,

the place my embryo developed


I imagined there was romance to my suffering

and that the pulse in my chest was a hand begging for me

I imagined the lights were off

and that my shadow was someone I liked


I imagined the room was full of demonic voices

and that I was not afraid of anything

I imagined I was dying and that my funeral

would be  beneath the ocean


I imagined I was titling into glass

and cracking my bones

I opened my eyes and saw a skinny silhouette standing

ahead of me, arms tied behind the back


I made not a sound as the figure came forward

and kissed my throat

“Stop picturing mournful moments.” a feminine voice hissed

“It is shattering my organs to see you so sad.”


I remember hearing myself laugh

Then I was unconscious, floating through lavender mist

and tiny insects


by Ashlie Allen


Ashlie Allen writes fiction and poetry. She is also a photographer. Her work has appeared in Literally Stories, The Gloom Cupboard, The Birds We Piled Loosely and others. She wants to visit Japan one day.

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