Greg Uses A Nightlight
by Kristine Ong Muslim
To find out what makes up humans,
Greg dismantles them to resemble dirty holes
which are topped by pithwood corks.
Noses become lips, blood turns into skin,
and veins become the unseen stitches
that hold the rubberized souls together.
Greg looks down the holes, imagines colors
in corners he cannot see, and now understands
why light moves at the whim of its own speed.
He uses a nightlight to entice the moths out
from the bottomless holes in every dismantled
human’s head, heart, and shaking hands.
Harvest Season
by Kristine Ong Muslim
The harvesters always knew when
the crops were ripe enough to uproot--
something about the distinct smell
of new flesh underneath the earth
where human babies grew in clusters
in place of bulbs and tap roots.
Portal
by Kristine Ong Muslim
At the bottom of Mr. Boyd’s well,
there are shriveled hands that reach
out in a gesture of prayer.
Screams of endless agony are muffled;
the unmistakable odor of burning flesh
can be smelled from miles away.
What Brett was hiding
by Kristine Ong Muslim
"Show us your third eye, Brett," Susie said.
Then all the girls laughed; that was what
they were good at. "Stop it," I warned.
Brett looked at me, shrugged, and said:
"No big deal. Was just a joke." His water
pistol was half-filled, and mine was empty.
I could not even remember firing it.
In a corner, Cynthia pointed at Brett:
"What's that?" Then I saw a twitching lump
on Brett's back, when he tried to turn away.
And before I could ask him what it was,
a hand from his back tore off the fabric
of his shirt which hid the wide black maw
where Brett's third hand should be.
When the dead girls took over the town
by Kristine Ong Muslim
Punk music was still playing in an abandoned car.
The neighbors were silent at last, although their
TV was left on. All the pets had fled days ago;
zombie girls were not equipped to chase them.
Certain body parts of the dead girls were dropped
from place to place, but such parts had no way
of growing back. Happened all the time. The mess
was a trail of mostly fingers and eyes. Not bad,
as long as the shedding process was painless.
And the dead girls did not know about the open
manhole where the dead boys would come out.