issue46streetcake

© trini decombe

contents–issue46

seth crook – a poem for those who holly day – thursday

alexis rhone fancher - murakami cento love poem #1 rab ferguson - the death of sherlock holmes

mitchell krockmalnik grabois - too much benadryl jenny hockey - city break

anna mace - lessons in love astra papachristodoulou – rays of pain

megan price - same old john richmond - me and my friends tomas sanchez hidalgo - insomnia

seth crook

A poem for those who are bored by the idea that titles should only be at the start of poems when they can also come at the end

holly day Thursday Suddenly, I know what is in the package. It’s another piece of child, sent to drive me crazy. The package is just the right size to hold a bunch of little bits. The very bottom of the stack of mail is a large manila envelope, full of photographs of people I don’t know or a finger, perhaps. I gently pick the package up and shake it, it sounds thick with paperwork, photographs of people I don’t know. The rest of the mail sits waiting to be sorted through at the very bottom of the stack is a large manila envelope, perhaps concealing another piece of child, sent to drive me crazy. The package has the return address of the new Baptist church in my neighborhood. Photographs of children pour out onto the floor from the package from the envelope, I think I recognize the handwriting.

alexis rhone fancher

Murakami Cento Love Poem #1 -All text taken from Haruki Murakami’s, Norwegian Wood.

1. It rained on her birthday. 2. I could feel the soft swell of her breasts on my chest. She herself had become small and narrow. Don’t worry, I said. Just relax. Before I knew it, I was kissing her. Her breathing intensified and her throat began to tremble. I parted her long, slim legs. But I’m scared, she said. She seemed to be turning over something in her mind. Do you have a girl you like? she asked. I took a sip of wine, as if I had never heard anything. 3. We were alive, she and I. I moved my lips up her neck to her ear and took a nipple with the finger of my other hand. We explored each other’s bodies in the darkness without words. It was easy. Almost too easy. 4. Glass shattered somewhere. I felt no pain to speak of, but the blood wouldn’t stop. 5. I smelled the meadow grass, heard the rain at night. 6. It was easy to tell which room was hers. All I had to do was find the one window toward the back where a faint light trembled. Come in, she said.

rab ferguson The Death of Sherlock Holmes No man can save Sherlock Holmes from the Reichenbach falls: not John Watson, nor Arthur Conan Doyle. Moriarty’s fingers always gripped the lapels of his coat and Sherlock clasped Moriarty’s shoulders in return, together they plummeted down holding each other as if before a kiss. Holmes may have climbed slippery footholds under falling boulders. Holmes may have been resurrected to solve 21st century crime. Holmes may have returned disguised as a waiter a chair a book-collector. But Holmes always died on the Reichenbach falls.

mitchell krockmalnik grabois

TooMuchBenadrylHornetsgrowfromthegroundlikegrass,stingersup.Ourmindsopenedbymescaline,wewalkthroughthisfieldbarefoot,mindlessofpainortoxin.Anyoneallergictowaspstingswouldalreadybedead.Thesunsetsorangeoverthemountain.Theelbowsofmybrownsweaterarefrayed.WeareeatingadietconsistingsolelyofThaichickensoupmadewithcoconutandlemongrass.Despitetheinfusionofcoconut,Isuddenlyfeelitchyallover.IcompulsivelyconsumeanentirepackageofBenadryl.Strangeasitsounds,mycousinkilledherselfwithanoverdoseofBenadryl.ThecoronercouldnottellmehowmuchBenadrylthatwouldtake.Noonekeptarecordofhowmanyemptypackagessurroundedherbody.MyfriendEdistryingtosimplifyhislife.Hesellspossessions.HeunfriendsFacebookfriendswhohavedied.Heencouragesmetodothesame.Butmypossessionsinsulatemefromoblivion.Myfriendswhohavediedmaywanttocontactme.Mycousinmaywanttocontactme,hereyesblurryandsleepyfromtoomuchBenadryl.Idon’thaveaOuijaboard,butIhaveFacebook.Idon’twantyouradvice,Ed.Idon’twantyourdesperation.Smokebillowsfromyourlaptop.Cremationsareinprogress.Myfatherwasanelectricalengineer.Hepioneereddrones.LikeGodhimself,hebroughtdeathunseenfromthesky.Hewasabadfather,buthe’sstillmyFacebookfriend.

jenny hockey CityBreakSameold,same-asyoumightsay.Maybebecauseofthelight.Thisgreydraininginofthecity.No.Thetimeaswell.Thedayalreadyeclipsingintohardlybegun.Ourtimeasone.TodayIambackinthishotel’sbankofsadness,graphiteandgreenanddullgauzegatheredatawindowthatadmitsneitherskynorground,justthemeangapbetweenhereandwhat’soverthere.Sliverthin,likethekeythatsawmein,Iamatliberty,glidingthebuffofwallsthatwrapapastanddirtylight,morethananything.Thelight

anna mace LessonsinLoveOnVictoriaplatform,Iwatcheditbreakmyheart,rippeditvast,acrossyourface,tomemoriessurrenderingbloodtogravity,briefly,thoughtofcallingmymother,butsheisontheothersideofthisblackhole.Andshecan’thear.Orsee.Whoissurewheretracinglightreallyfalls,Iwonder.Whenonceshapesalife?Seekingtreasureinthegap,stoicallyfoldedawayandsixpointed,hiddenplacesnurturinglove,wheresomethinghasassembledme.Itightenedroundyourwords,snailedinsidemywomb.Thewayyouglowed,andrememberedhowEscherlovedworlds,andIlovedeyes,youasked,howisit,attheageof33,you’restillterrifiedofbeingateenagemother?Whywemeasuretheworldinratios,indices,borrowedpatterns?Icouldn’thelpbutsmileatthewaywestamped,thegeometryofthisterritoryintheexchangeofourhands,andhowwelaughedalittle,andpulledaway.Whilstlovestayedput,wavingbravelyfromthetrain.

Playingseemseasierthanpraying;Ireconcilethelineinreverse,holdvoyageinarmchairssurroundedbyidols,plush,brassdoorknobs,art,sweat,

whilstsalutingredwinetothelettersboundinconsolably,toDolce,bornfromthevoidforathinglikethat.Iterating,satin,scar(red)-letheart,stuffed.Ican’tbearthebeautyofsilence,thecascadeoflightdrops,grazedstiffrecedingintheripple,whenthesilhouettewindowyawns,Itellmyself,Itellmyself,allthingswilldie.Thosepatternsonscreenarereadingbestwhatwelovemost.IscrabbleforA9I9R6p2r6e12c2i9o8u4s4w4o8r6d4s4,withallthespacetheygiveandforalltheirworth,love,justtimesickness.That’sallitis.Wedon’ttalkabouthowdizzying,howfragileitsscent,likemilkteethunderpillows,diffusingdreamsaswesleep,hopingsomeonewillcraftthemintomagic,spells: W.EA.R.EE.N.O.U.G.H.despitethefalls,theclutchatourhearts,stringofwoundstrailing,stillwanttoknow: W.EA.R.EE.N.O.U.G.H.incantationsthatdrawustofullheight,elevateknightsintoshiningstars,smallsteps,love,aday–alifetime,startwithsmallwords: W.EA.R.EE.N.O.U.G.H.

9Wheresomethinghasme9assemblinglove,hidingpoints6tonurturethegap,enfoldingsuffering-2wesoughttreasureinlife.6Iwonder,12canwetracetheseatothelight?2Butthisblackistheothersideofthewhole.9Mymothercalls8thethoughttogravity,and4bloodsurrenders.Wefaceour4memories,hardlybrief4kisses,theseareafterall,8vastrippinghearts.Watching6victorybreakontheplatform,knowitis4loverepeating,circling,foreverso.4Asabove.

RAYS OF PAIN

                   

LOVE

is

a su

n

with

double

face

and

of

attraction

of

blee

d

but

if

timing

speed

it

wrong

love’s

blade  

own

to  

make you  

gets

will

megan price

SameOld

Itwasalwaysthesame:she’dgetbacklaterthanshemeantto,buthenever

complained.He’dhaveabottleofredalreadyopen.They’dsitatthetable:herat

theheadinwhatwashisseatatmealtimes–agrandwoodenarmchaircarvedby

hisgrandmother;himtoherright,leaningonhisarmtowatch,readyforbed,but

happyforhercompany.Whennooneelsewasthere,heandArthur,his–once

Lucy’s–faithful,ifslightlyneurotic,cockapoo,keptatightregime.Youhadtoput

astructureinplacewhenyouwereretiredandlivingonyourown.Andbesides,

therewasnothingtostopyoudoingasyouwished,sowhenyoufoundawayyou

liked,youkepttoit;perfectedit.

Hewatchedherwolfbackthebitsofnicestuffhe’dputtogether:alumpof

cheese,atomatocutintoquarters,someolives,thatkindofthing.Heknewthat

whatshereallywantedwasachunkofcrustyporkpie,butshewasdeterminedto

keeptoherpescitariandiet.‘Littlepesky,’thatshewas.Heknewhewasrepeating

thesamejokebycallingherthat,buthedidn’tcare–itstillmadehimlaugh.

Sheshovedanotherpieceoftomatointohermouthbeforeproperly

swallowingwhatwasalreadyinit;shehadthehealthyappetiteofLucy’sfamily.

ShewassolikeLucythatsometimesheforgotandheldherhandlikealovernota

daughter.Itembarrassedhimwhenthathappened,butithappenedlessthese

days,mostlyonlywhenhegotdrunk.Hewasalwaysoveraffectionatewhenhe

gotdrunkanyway.Notsleazylikehisfriend,Martin–oratleasthelikedtothink

not,butheknewhehuggedtootightsometimes.‘AlrightEd,’they’dlaugh,usedto

hisamorousways;thoughtheamoroustheywereimaginingwasn’ttheamorous

hefelt:insidewasarealandactuallove;hecaredandwantedtosqueezethem

tighttosay,I’mgladyou’reinmylife,Ihopeyou’regladyou’reinminetoo.That

sortofthingwasokayinthetribehe’dlivedwithinCameroon.Somuchmorewas

okay.Evendeath.

‘Mmm,thatwasgood,thanks,’shepushedherplateaway.

‘Bitmorewine?’

Sheshookherheadandyawned.‘Nothanks,Ishouldgettobed.’

‘Yesweshould,shouldn’tweArthur.’

Arthurwaslaidflatonthefloor,chinoncrossedpawslikesomeanimal

anthropomorphisedinacartoon.Hearinghisnamehesnortedagreement.

Shegotupandputtheplateinthedishwasher.‘Tea?’

‘Doublegingerandhoney.’

Shefilledupthekettleandflickediton.Shepulledoutacamomileteabag

forherself;twogingerandhoneybagsforhim.WhenLucyhadfirstgotinto

herbalteaandtriedtogethimintoittoo,he’dcomplainedabouttheirweaktaste.

She’dresolvedtheproblembydoublingupthedose.ThatwasprettymuchLucy’s

attitudetolife.

‘Halfateaspoon?’shepulleddownaglassjarofsugarfromtheshelf.

‘It’sabigmug.’

Shesmirkedathim,‘uh-ha?’

‘Itwasn’tthatthatgavemetheheartattack!’

‘IknowDad,’shesaidandpiledaheapedteaspoonofsugarintotheaverage

sizedmug.

Upstairs,theyleftthedoorsopenastheygotreadyforbed.Withakneeonthe

toiletseat,sheleantintothemirrorandpeeredatherface:notreallytakingitin;

morerememberingwhatitusedtolooklike.Sheshookthecleanserbottleonto

thecottonpad:empty.Mumwouldhavesomeinthedrawernexttoherbed.

ShewanderedintoMumandDad’sbedroom.‘OkayifIusesomeofMum’s

cream?’

‘Whatwasthat?’Dadcameoutoftheensuite,atoweldrapedoverhis

outstretchedhands;soapywaterdrippingdownfromhisfaceintoit.

‘OkaytouseMum’scream,’sheasked,thoughshewasalreadypullingopen

thedrawer.

‘Ofcoursedarling.Betteritdoesn’tgotowaste.’Heshovedhisfaceintothe

towel,andrubbeditroughly.

Slowlysheandhersisterworkedthroughthemashupofbeautyproducts

inthesquaretopdrawer.Otherthings,likethejewellery,stayedwheretheywere

fornow.Mum’swatchlaynexttotheoldradioalarmclock,andinsidethecircleof

thefastenedstrap,washergoldandrubyring.Mumhadbeensohappywhenshe

discoveredwhatabargainshe’dgotonthering.

‘Yougirlsneedtodecidewhichyouwant,’hecamecloser,usinghislittle

fingerpokedintothetoweltodryhisear.Heswitchedthetowelintohislefthand

andscoopedtheringontohisthesamefinger.‘Youknowshewassopleasedto

findthisonline,andthenwegotitvaluedanditwasworththreetimestheamount

wepaid.Atleast.’

‘Uh-ha.YouknowIdon’treallymind.WhateverRobsprefers.’

‘Shesaysthesame.’

‘How’syournose?’shetwistedhisshoulderssohefacedher.

‘Oew,’hegaveafakewhineofdespair,butlethishandsdropbyhisside.

‘IknowDad,butIdon’twantyoulikeoneofthoseoldmen.Comeunderthe

light.’

Heletherguidehimandtippedhisheadbacksothatthelightcaughthis

noseperfectly.

‘See,there,you’vegotalongonerightinthemiddle.Staythere.’She

openedthebathroomcabinetandtookoutMum’spinktweezers.Quicklyshehad

themgrippedaroundthethick,whitehair.Sheflickedherwrist.

‘Ow.’

‘Itwasn’tthatbad,’shegrinned.‘Justafewmore.’Sheworked

methodicallyacrosshisnose,givingitherfullattention.

‘Ow!Thatonereallydidhurt.Theyalwayshurtthere,aroundthenostril.’

‘Sorry,’shestrokedhisnosegentlytomakesureshehadn’tmissedany,

thenputdownthetweezersnexttothewatchandring,andturnedintentlytohis

nose.

‘SavemeArthur.’

‘Dad,honestly,Ishowedyouthatguy.’ShemeanttheguyonYoutube,with

thebulbousnosesthathadhisblackheadsandwhiteheadspoppedoutwitha

metalimplementsothattheysquiggledlikelittleworms.

‘Don’tremindme,’hesaid,rollinghiseyes.Hewasverycampforsucha

straightman:theoriginalnewageman.

SheandMumusedtolaughathowsoppyhewas;thewayhewavedthem

goodbye,liketheywereoffonalongroadtrip,wheninfacttheywereonlygoing

tothesupermarket.Mumwassodynamicthatitleftheralittleperplexed.Your

father,she’dsay,andshakeherhead.Butshe’dgiveasmiletoo:asmalloneto

herself,asifshewassayingunderherbreathe‘andIlovehim’.

Sheturnedherhandsinandusedthecurveofherforefingernailstopinch

togetherandsqueezeathisnose.

‘Ineverletyourmumdothis.’

‘IknowDad,butshe’dbepleased.She’dhateitifRobinandIdidn’ttake

careofyou.’

‘Humpf.Andmetakecareofyoutoo.’

‘YesDad….Ohhh!’Athinsquiggleofwhitejettedoutofthesideofhisnose.

Itwasn’tquitethewormsofthevideo,butitwassatisfyingnevertheless.‘Thatone

wasgood.’

‘You’vegotatissueIhope?’hesaid.

‘Nope.’

‘Typical,’hereachedintohispocketandpulledoutahanky.

john richmond

“MEANDMYFRIENDS”

Hestoodthere,notquiteinadumbfoundstatebutliterally“…dumb…”

enough-mute-untilhe“…found…”awayto“replay”hislastexchangewiththe

CustomerServiceRepattheAmtrakcounter.

“How’sthenoontrainfrombackeastdoing?”heaskedwhenitwashisturnto

approachthecounter.

TheReplookedupquicklyandthenjustasquicklylookedaway.“TheLake

ShoreLimited?It’srunningalittlelate.”

HelookedpasttheReptotheclockontherearwall.Itsaidelevenforty-five,

stillintheAM.

“Alittlelate,huh?”heaskedwithaconstantnoddingthatbetrayedhisgut-

levelfeelingthattherewasgoingtobeaproblem.“Whatdoes‘…alittlelate…’mean

inChicago?”

“Three-o-five,”wastheanswerthatricochetedupoffthepaperworkinfront

oftheRep.

Ashestoodthere,somanythingswerevyingtobevoiced.Thingslike-

(1) “…whatkindofrailroadareyourunning?”

(2) “…doyouknowhowlongittookmetodriveinfromLombard?”

(3) “…whatamIsupposetodoforthreehours?”

Butallhedidwasshakehishead,mutterasharplywordedandincredulous,

“What?”andthenleft.

HewalkedoutofUnionStation,lookedovertheChicagoRiverandthought

aboutwhathewasgoingtodo.

“Imightaswellgetsomethingtodrink,”headvisedhimselfandsurveyed

thepromenadeontheothersideoftheriver.There,offtotheleftwasanoutdoor

café.HemadehiswaytherebywayoftheWestAdamsStreetBridgeandwaitedat

thehostess’station.

Hewatchedherwalkuptohim.Shewascuteandpetite,twoattributes

whichwerehighonhislist.Hernametagsaid,“Barbara.”

“Atableforone?”sheaskedwithasmile.

“Yes,”hesaidandthenadded,“couldIgetoneattherailing,nexttothe

river?”

Sheglancedbrieflyattheavailabletablesandthenturnedbacktohim.

“I’msorry,wedon’thaveanythingbytherailing.”

Helookedpasther,thenpointedandasked,“Howaboutthattableover

there?”

Afterahesitatingmoment,shefinallyasked,“Youwantmetoseatyou-by

yourself-atatablethatseatssix?”

“Yes,Ido,”herepliedconfidently.

“I-see,”shesaidslowlyandthenpausedbeforesheuppedtheantewhen

shesaid,“Tellmeagoodstory.”

Atthispoint-nodoubt-anyperceptivepersoninthecaféwouldhadtohave

beenblindnottonoticethecomplementingtwinkleinbothoftheireyes.Shewas

gameandhewasready.

“Wouldyoubelieve,”hebeganandthenshiftedhisweighttobringhimever

soslightlyclosertoher,“wouldyoubelievethatIhavemultiplepersonalitiesand

theyallneedtheirownseats?”

Shesmiledawidesmiledandthenlookedbackatthetables.

“Oh,look,there’sacouplegettingupfromthattablefortwoattherailing.

Doyouthinkthatallofyourpeoplecouldsqueezethemselvesintothosetwo

seats?”

Helookedoveratthetable,foundittobesatisfactoryandthensaid,“Idon’t

know,letmeaskthem.”

Withthat,heturnedawayfromher,tookastepbackandbeganan

imaginary-andhushed-conversationwithhispersonalities.Finally,he

straightenedup,steppedbacktowardherandannounced,“Theysaidthatitwould

beallright.”

“Wonderful,”shesaidandsmiled,“please,ifyouwouldallcomethisway.”

Hespentthebetterpartofthethreehourssittingthereattherailingand

drinkingwine.Onhiswayout,hegaveherasixtydollartip.

Shelookedatthemoneyandsaid,“Ican’ttakethis,it’stoomuch.”

“Yesyoucanandnoit’snot,”hecounteredandpaused.“Look,”he

continued,“whenIsaidthatthingaboutthepersonalities,youcouldhavewritten

meoffacompletejerk.Butyoudidn’t.Youplayedalong.Itwasfun.Youdeserve

it.”

Shethankedhimandthenexcusedherselftoattendtonewcustomerswho

werewaitingforatable.

He,then,madehiswaybackacrosstheriverandintoUnionStationtomeet

hisarrivalcominginontheLakeShoreLimited.

END

ts hidalgo Insomnia Too much time on the wall: the number of times a suitcase turns does not determine the turn or the rhythm of the ballad: no one loses all the time, and I suspect that even those from Dubai probably know that, -or was it maybe another Emirate?-, those 2,500,000, or so, all lit up, there below, all of them: none even travels by canoe or panda bear; and if a raggedy cloud just scratched the life from a human eye in a close-up…: back to what I was saying, long live Scotland, and I drink Scotland: I raffle the rules, gazing at the Alhambra, and the palindromes, and I loathe the cathodic jail, while I take a seat: welcome to the sudden AK-47 of my voice.