The Pumpkin by DS Maolalai


she is in bed.  her breath  comes shallowly,  with sounds of a stuck zipper  opened. my family  uncomfortable. my brother bringing tea.  her mouth slack. death arrived slowly like a man collecting bins. her face not a face – just a place for holes to go through. the room is warm. things blink. oxygen and medical machines. she looks nothing  like anyone's grandmother. eyes  closed, cheeks aged inward –  a pumpkin  on the doorstep of an empty house, rotten on the second week  of november.

3 views

Recent Posts

See All

A Simple Problem By Lia Lewine

The blonde Young Adult, Maya Flowers, gains friendship and romance with when I use an “enchanting introduction” to say hello. While she knows my friend, we have never met. I mentally thank my friend f

Did Icon by Rikki Santer

Did Versace billow beyond stilettos sky-highed with peep-toed platforms triggered. Did Balenciaga four-side a cocktail dress, Armani rebirth old Hollywood, mused by mini-dress metal. Did red snake & c

  • Instagram

© 2020 by Opal Literary Journal.