Volume 3 Number 1 • Spring 2011
You climbed inside a flower once – a single white daisy growing sideways in a patch of grass. Absorbed dew through velvet skin. You inhabited the yellow center, as if touching the sun. A tiny insect on a new planet.
City lights ripple across darkness as if under water. Thousands of tiny pinpricks, gold and red, stitched together by electricity. Sky mirrors ocean at a distance – beyond the horizon, black. Perhaps at night sky and ocean switch places before first light requires order for the day to unfold.
Brittany Michelson is a recent graduate of the MFA program at Antioch University. Her short work can be read on various online sites including: Glossolalia, Flashquake, and Every Day Fiction.