Bodies

Mike Meginnis




Body #3

This body once saw a dead body. It was this body's father's father. The body's father's father's body had been dressed up for church. It wore a good suit. It wore makeup. The makeup did not detract from the cool, chalky quality of the skin. It did smooth over certain lines and creases. There was a tendency in other bodies to weep in its vicinity. This body did not cry. It only wanted in the coffin. This was not appropriate. Instead this body reached in there, under its father's body's bloodshot eyes, and wiped away some of the blush and the white powder, leaving only dead skin, which was the texture of wax paper.

This body examined the makeup smear on its finger. This was the index finger. This finger was small.



Bodies #27-57

This body's in a pile.

Body body body body body. Body body body body body. Body.

Body body body body body.

Body body body body body.

Body body body body body body body.

This body's in a pile.



Body #64

What a hungry what a hungry what a hungry body. What a thirsty what a thirsty what a thirsty body. What a needful little needful kind of needful little needful sinful body. What a lonely little body. What a lonely little body. What a needful little lonely little kind of hungry little thirsty little sort of little sort of little sort of needful lonely little little body, little body. What a wanting body. What a wanting body.



Body #67

And sky like pink frosting. And mountain peaks like candle tops. And trees like jagged yellow brush strokes. And streams like drool drooling down your neck. And a body. A body dusted with leaves. Fallen leaves like blots of nature. Fallen leaves like fallen leaves.







Mike Meginnis has stories and criticism published or forthcoming in The Lifted Brow, Hobart, elimae, Dark Sky Magazine, A cappella Zoo, The Review of Contemporary Fiction, and others. He serves as a managing editor of Puerto del Sol and co-edits Uncanny Valley with his wife, Tracy Bowling.