by Carol Guess and Rochelle Hurt Miikka Luotio I had an ending once. I knew its name the moment I saw its face, so I called to it every day until it knew me too. My little endling, trailing me to county-line bus stops, to gun-powder boyfriends and cherry-bomb bathrooms. Shadowing into existence. One morning I found it lying in a field with a flower in its mouth, not breathing. How could you, I asked, upend me like that? I didn’t know how easy endings were to come by. I would