brown recluse
- Dec 6, 2024
- 1 min read
by Kimmy Chang
i blame the erratic pulse of social media.
a wondrously flashy line of dialogue.
the man whispered it from the master closet, where he lay on the linoleum beside his wife’s pink poof.
starved, folded in some forgotten sock — i sat in silence.
he rubbed his toes together, then crossed his legs.
sweet lily, i have only you to talk to.
the man rattles through his to-dos — spray herbicide, buy butcher steak — all of it circles back to the sweet lily.
the air filled with nonsensical buzzing. gushed honeyed nothings.
music poured in — the same as before. nocturne (unpolished).
the social media daughter rushes a practice — the string squeaks, then stops. the man sighs, stands.
he mutters damn it, slams his shoe hard. i slide out into the darkness, unseen — two sets of three eyes searching for the victim.
and there — a dead roach.
and there — emptiness.
a crushed, soft body.
a sweet, twitching feast.
Kimmy Chang is an aspiring poet working toward her first chapbook, blue morpho. She studied poetry at Stanford under Aria Aber and Richie Hofmann. Her work has appeared in APPLAUSE, PEP HAUS, Bombay Gin, and Landlocked. Originally from McKinney, TX, Kimmy is currently a Computer Vision Engineer for the U.S. Space Systems Command. When she’s not writing (poetry or code), she can be found playing with — and mostly spoiling with treats — her adorable pet fluffs.
