Photo by Freepix
by Meg Tuite
Once, when there was a pause in life, the midst of summer unfolded a ketamine journey. Shed its numb days for purple butterflies as rural as my heart. A cello infused the breath of thousands of species conversant in the language of suicide. Nothing more autobiographical than the shrieks of a razored tongue. Down, down beneath the rapt mirror of regret and frazzle, a pocket of sky took my small, soft hand. Within the delicate fugue of sweet grass, I enveloped the fingers of a child, who was my mother, and flew.
Meg Tuite is the author of seven story collection and five chapbooks. She is an award-winning author who teaches online classes and is fiction editor of Bending Genres, and an associate editor at Narrative Magazine. Find her at: megtuite.com
