Sydnee Schaller

Mythic

Trinity Lerum

I am a woman, except for when I’m not the kind anyone likes to imagine, with hairy legs & belly & sharp teeth & greasy hair & shattered nails, yes I am human, except for when I say, “Wouldn’t it be nice to have hair like Medusa? Wouldn’t it be nice to have feathers? Yes, my palms sweat but not for anyone with their feet on the earth.”

How do I tell this to anyone? How do I say my hands are too small to hold anything very well, except for a handful of hands, a glass of cherry Coke with three ice cubes, a .38 pen, and sweat fits well in the creases of my palms.

I tell my girl, fuck romance, and holding my hand, she echoes me and says, “We don’t need it.” One of my snakes kisses one of hers. Two more cuddle up like the symbol on an ambulance.

I’ve changed my mind; I want claws instead of feathers.

“That way, I can open you up pickle jars easier,” I tell her.