Small Game I forget where we were. You wilted at my feet, sinuous flower, your tears extinguishing nothing. The shotgun blasts tore into air clipping a pheasant in the distance. A red cry. The horizon burst into feathers. Pain flourished telling the clouds, the leaves, the water, what death is.
M. J. Arlett is an MFA candidate at Florida International University. She was born in the UK, spent several years in Spain and now lives in Miami. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Lunch Ticket, Poet Lore, Mud Season Review, The Boiler Journal, Portland Review and elsewhere.