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Scars Publications

Audio/Video chapbooks cc&d magazine Down in the Dirt magazine books

 

This writing was accepted for publication
in the 84 page perfect-bound issue...
Down in the Dirt magazine (v101)
(the December 2011 Issue)




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Down in the Dirt magazine cover Symbols Manifest This writing also appears
in this 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback
“Perfectly Imperfect”
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in the book
Bleeding Heart
Cadaver

(a Down in the Dirt
collection book)
Bleeding Heart Cadaver (Down in the Dirt collection book) issuecollection book get the 320 page
September-December 2011
Down in the Dirt magazine
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1,000 Words
(the 2011 prose
collection book)
1,000 Words (2011 prose collection book) issuecollection book get the short poem
226 page collection
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Sex and Laundry

S. MacLeod

    “Am I doing something wrong?” I whisper, breathing sweat scent.
    It’s the third time he’s wilted like a salted slug, and I give up, turn over on my side. I’m still dressed, so I’m spared.
    “It’s not you,” he’s explaining. I hear the rustle of his clothes, his fly zipping shut.
    “I am attracted to you, it’s just....”
    He snaps on the lamp; the room fills with accusatory yellow light. I knew he was engaged when this started, so he’s wasting his breath. This was supposed to be fun. My hand creeps over the height of my hip, measuring like always.
    My fingers find smooth, warm skin that was supposed to be his, its electricity fading.
    “Self-pity isn’t winning you any points,” he says.
    Fuck him. I pull my t-shirt over my stomach, say nothing as I haul myself up, follow him downstairs and out, into unseasonable March sun.
    He makes some small talk about see you at work tomorrow. I nod, submit to his awkward embrace. He’s wearing Drakkar, but the undersmell is more honest, sex and laundry. He tilts my chin up, looks in my eyes, opens and closes his mouth.
    Then turns to go.
    I watch him retreat to the rusty Ford he’d said he was too drunk to drive.
    Some would say I lack impulse control, otherwise why would I be this way? But it takes all I have, not to slam the door behind him.
    “You’re welcome.”



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