Have You Ever Heard Her...

H ush. Do you hear that? A lonely tune in the wind. Low melancholic hum of a river. Can you hear it? Tell me… Have you ever heard Her sing a lullaby? Low and gentle. Bellows with the foundations beneath. Sighs with pity and despondency. Then, continues with Her chorus. Did you not know? There is a voice languishing over the horizon. Mounds of dirt and stone repeat its cry. A refrain cradling Her rotund womb. Siege of storms brewing behind Her spine. Endless passing of the tides. The rising warmth of an inhale. The release of a cold exhale…

That sudden wince of sorrow. Have you felt it? A whimper escaping from Her breast. Intense undulating that disturbs the water. Eternal itch scratching against the soil. Stubbornness while being pulled by the limbs. A forced pry from Her bed. A formidable wall of rock and earth. Do you not believe it? Her spine is bent but unwavering. Enduring calamity and ignorance. Only to preserve Her immeasurable offspring. Whose ears cannot hear Her. Does it not confuse you? How Her melodic mourning has no receiver? Desperate to lull the incubus to sleep. Wailing only to be shunned again. A composition made for the half deaf…

Can you hear Her now? A lament for the missing dead. Denial of Her molested womb. Loss of security for Her Spine. Does it not reach you? The sudden spike of parching fever. Heavy downpour of perspiration. Dryness of the basin mouth. Foul breeze of dying breath. Forever altogether haunting companions. An agony from the depths below. An aria that vibrates and awakens the asleep. Do you happen to be impaired? Or do your senses deceive you? She calls but there is no answer. While you only wait and wander. Whatever remained of your consciousness. You only allow your own undoing. Missing the escape to Her inevitable fate. The day of Her untimely decay and separation. The hour She labors into eternal bleeding. The moment you will not hear Her song has ended…

Next Year

Ana Gabriela Magno

TRIGGER WARNING: ATTEMPTED SUICIDE, SUBSTANCE ABUSE FADE IN

INT. CORRIN’S HOUSE, BEDROOM - EVENING

It is CORRIN’s last time sleeping in her own bedroom before she’ll be admitted to the psych ward the following day for an indefinite amount of time.

She sits there staring at the bare wall across her, memorizing every detail and crack on the cement she spent most of her time surrounded by in isolation. Those wretched four walls. Her phone buzzes. She glances at the nightstand in annoyance.

CORRIN (Muttering to herself)

God, I thought I put the damn thing on airplane mode. Who the fuck is trying to speak to me this time?

CORRIN picks up her phone and taps the notification. It’s her penpal TERRA. The text is as follows: “Do you want to call right now?”

CORRIN taps on the call button. TERRA picks up.

TERRA Hey!

CORRIN

Hello.

TERRA knits her eyebrows.

TERRA

I can practically hear you frowning through the phone, you know.

CORRIN

Should I be fucking laughing and smiling right now and start acting like you just said the funniest joke in the world to me? Like, given the circumstances?

TERRA pauses briefly, eyes wide and taken aback. She sighs.

Terra

Whoa, Jesus Christ, I guess not.

CORRIN doesn’t say anything. TERRA decides she should be the one to speak.

Terra

Well, anyway, I just wanted to wish you good luck and, you know, say goodbye and all that stuff.

CORRIN

You make it sound like I’m dying.

Terra

You literally almost did.

CORRIN scratches her head.

Corrin

Anyway, what was it you wanted to say? I haven’t got all evening.

Terra

Just… yeah. I didn’t really think this one through, huh. I’ll miss you a lot. You’re a big part of me. Of my life. Of my heart. I hope it helps you. When will you be back?

CORRIN is hesitant.

Corrin

I don’t know. In a few months. Could be more than that. Maybe next year, even.

TERRA laughs bitterly.

Terra

Dumbass, why did you go and have to do that?

CORRIN frowns.

CORRIN

Do what? Try to kill myself?

Terra

You know that’s not what I meant.

CORRIN

That’s exactly what you meant.

TERRA

Fine. If that’s what you want to think, go ahead.

CORRIN

You act like I had any control over it.

TERRA

I mean, between you and me, who was shoving pills down her throat?

CORRIN

You make it sound like you wanted me dead in the first place.

TERRA

I figured you would have learned to deal with my honesty by now.

CORRIN

Not like this, no.

Silence.

CORRIN

You know what? I don’t think I can ignore the truth anymore. This shit just keeps going in circles. Yeah. I’ll be honest with you. I wanted to end my life. Genuinely. The knife in my chest just kept twisting itself more and more. I didn’t know how to deal with it. I just wish you were there for me. I don’t think I would have tried it if you were.

TERRA

You could have talked to me.

CORRIN

…I don’t know.

TERRA

Seriously? What do you fucking mean you don’t know?

CORRIN doesn’t say anything.

TERRA

God, I don’t know what to do with you.

More silence.

TERRA

What time are you leaving?

CORRIN

Six in the morning.

TERRA

I’ll always be thinking about you.

Corrin

I know. I don’t know. Well.

Terra

Enough of this “I know but I don’t know” shit. It’ll never end. Goodbye.

TERRA hangs up. CORRIN clutches her phone tightly, shaking. She throws it on the bed and lets her head fall into her hands. FADE

It comes out as vomit: tearless sludge scratching my throat. I don’t even flinch from the smell that condemns our kitchen sink. I don’t even think of the mop and the rags and the bucket you thought to kick. Pig’s blood and bone broth spill over yesterday’s groceries.

(Move away.)

I don’t even think of the toothpaste and the irritation. I don’t even flinch from the water that floods our bathroom sink. I come out as holy. That when I am muck and yolk and blood and broth and mop and brush, that when I am all that I can think to be-

I will still taste clean.” one

digital art

Trisha Matabalan

Zeus

1.

Man amongst men; The truth does not hold weight against the palms that wield the crackle of thunder, the static of lightning, the agonies of the sky.

2. Ruler amongst rulers; Light around his fingers, power on his tongue. A man always knows when to strike.

Iron in the blood between your thighs, and he always knows where his hands must go: underneath, over, through.

Sex is everything, and everything is sex. To conquer is to keep what you own— entangled, ensnared, (“entranced,” he corrects)—

Kept, for his eyes only. There will always be another woman, another wife, another wile— tittering birds and a peacock feather hanging on the mantle.

3. Rapist among rapists

You will never be in control of your own fate

A girl in a god’s world is nothing; You know this.

If you are angry, you hide it behind your teeth, ozone crackling like pop rocks in your mouth, and if you must say it, then say it, but— but not yet.

4. (Not yet—

The wind is piercing cold when you raise your arms, your head, your voice. There’s no chance of taking flight in this storm. Not yet—

When you plead, you keep your head down, so you don’t see who comes at your call in the haze of this downpour. The oracles speak in languages you can’t decipher.

Your tongue acquaints itself with begging when you lose favor. Not yet— The flesh can only be pardoned if it’s clean. If there’s nothing left, what do you do? What do you have? Not yet—)

5.

It does not matter that his mouth is stained with ichor, that even gods themselves have been taught how to unlearn their spines in his presence, or that the mound of warm bodies of which he has made his throne is never questioned

6. Still— even the clamor of thunder won’t be loud enough to silence all of us.

Gwenevie