By J Snow
PROMPT — No one noticed ...
My name doesn't sound like my own anymore
nightfall drips down onto the railings of the porch, a soft banging of the screen backdoor, its wood frame scarred from shattered dishes i sit at the dining room table, listen to a cricket chirp somewhere in the eventide, the chill of a sighing tree seeps through splintered edges around the windows no presents, no birthday cake, no streamers or balloons i push scraps of last night's boiled chicken dinner around in my bowl— it's a day like any other day in this house mama with hair spun around in wild twists is passed out on the couch, one leg hanging over the side, vomit crusting the corner of her chasmic maw and sagging sallow cheeks slamming of the truck door announces his arrival fear cracks the air before me like a cavernous
wound, despair a talon dragging me across the hourglass sands,
my tongue a dead and bloated slug
i abandon my position to scurry toward the darkness of my room,
like a spider dissolving into shadows fleeing the stray tom
camping my backyard
J Snow is a poet/author whose work has been described as disturbing, visceral, haunting, and evocative. Pulling inspiration from personal experience as an abuse/abduction survivor, her writings provide readers a peek inside the splintered psyche of a trauma victim. Her published works include two in a best selling series of Hellbound Books, one in an award-winning Author's Tale collection, others by Horrified Press, Zombie Pirate Publishing, Nothing Books, The Horror Zine, Sirens Call, Soft Cartel Magazine, Ariel Chart, and The Indian Feminist Review. J Snow is currently working on a memoir series and debut novel. Learn more @JSnowAuthor
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