Glossy lips, upturned in a cheesy grin. This is what I see when I think about the morning I left my country. The lips of a Ronald McDonald statue, painted red to match its garish hair and its clown’s outfit. Broad lips stretched into a smile that seemed much too bright under soulless eyes. I…
Appel turns his professional interest in the workings of the human mind to a narrative exploration of the reasons we tell lies.
Above the house a low sun like a wrecking ball,
the world at the horizon splintered like a Rothko
i order a long black
he looks at me
man on man gaze
I want to feel
the warm milk of your smile.
I want to see your reflection
in the moon’s mirror, polished like spring bones.
She was not like unwitting prey,
That had never sighted the lion;
She fled from him, knowing
As she did what it meant…
i’d put stickers all over the moon
and hang it from the ceiling
in the living room
sunshine snacked on
Brown girl: you don’t get a plot twist. Your story’s been penned
with strokes as hollow as they are spiteful
For those who forego the languor of home ground, that lethal rapine of routine, the most compelling sound of the travelling life might be a ferry’s foghorn throughout the night
Vacant of leaves
and shell-wrapped gifts,
dad and I can see the sky.
the fox and i
shared one glance
i think about it all the time