Aches and Pains

We sit on ash heaps, picking our scabs. We’ve learned not to feel the hunger or pain anymore. We name our aches after friends and family we watched die along the way. When my eardrums buzz, it’s my mother scolding me. My back pops. That’s Julie, straddling me. A busted lip from her wicked teeth. Sandra is a sharp pinprick in my gut, she always was.

Our minds will become empty just like our stomachs. Until then we feed on memories. My rump throbs like I’m ten getting a whipping from Pa. Memories are sustenance. Tonight will be a feast.

 

Lora Kilpatrick lives in Oklahoma. She is a violinist and a pilot and loves anything with wings—including birds, chickens, and airplanes.

Photo Credit: vk red 

11 Responses to “Aches and Pains”

  1. Jackie says:

    So evocative! I thought of many things.

  2. Lauren says:

    This is my favourite! So poetic too.

  3. AJacobs says:

    VERY SPOOKY

  4. Jonathan Richardson says:

    I cracked my fetus while reading this, great story

  5. Jon Remington says:

    Also: Incredibly cool that youre a pilot.

  6. Junaid says:

    so beautiful

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