Order this writing in the collection book Unlocking the Mysteries available for only $1795 |
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This appears in a pre-2010 issue
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ALWAYS THE NIBBLER
G.A. Scheinoha
She eats little morsels of you with each day’s passage. You’re in the
elevator when you notice that bite out of your shoulder; the cartoon simple jagged saw mark where only the unbroken curve of trapezius once existed.
Other times, it’s more subtle She sidles by on the sidewalk and you
glance up moments later, vaguely aware some small part of you is missing, gone with that second’s aching.
On most occasions, you couldn’t name the missing piece either by lot
number or location. Perhaps it’s a memory. A twinge tells you it might’ve been important, your anniversary, wife’s mother’s birthday. At least you’ d have a legitimate reason.
Though you’ll probably NOT mention who took it. Geez, she’s young enough to be your daughter. Mother-in-law might call you an old fool. Wife shake her head over your mid-life crisis.
And you, you just touch the secret place, if that’s where it’s really
disappeared from this time. Feel the soft imprint of crowns before the firm clamp and tug, the caress of unseen but clearly felt jaws. A smile spreads with the impression. What a way to go, one quick chaw at a time.