She was in shambles, this doll, this gone girl, in parts and pieces, an arm there, the head under an all embracing elm, each leg twenty feet apart. That’s how he found her. All torn up. He suspected that this was the result of a failed love affair between mute and plastic; perhaps, her toy lover left her dismembered and he took the soul. He had seen this kind of scenario on the SyFy channel while his aunt chain-smoked and ate banana peels; she believed the peel’s anti-oxidants would counteract the carcinogens. He looked down at the gone girl, all 308 pieces of her. He thought: Will anyone ever love me for myself?

days whisper sonnets
the instinct of leaning trees
summer returning

Kyle Hemmings

lives and works in New Jersey. His work has been published in Your Impossible Voice, Night Train magazine, Toad, matchbox literary magazine, and elsewhere. His latest ebook is Father Dunne’s School for Wayward Boys at amazon dot com.

Lots more poetry and flash at his blog: DogPunk & Psychedelic Stinky Cat

More on the Web: By, About, and Beyond

⚡ Sweet Round Buddha, 581-word flash fiction in matchbox literary magazine (January 2012); includes author’s commentary “Critical Thought: Buddha”