PERFECTION IN ACTION // The Last Bedtime Story

Her hair was like straw, a far cry from how it used to be. She no longer adorned it with dandelions. Nor did she wear clovers or ladybugs to make it grin with a certain visual poetry. No, a brush of dry, prickly, lifeless bristles was all that greeted his touch.

“Don’t worry, honey,” she whispered, cutting a faded tress. “We’ll bring our Summer back.”

And so they painted on the lush green grass with the remnants of her youth. Dewy dandelions and sleepy ladybugs. Clovers and sweet peas. Then the hedgehogs joined them in the sunlight, and they danced.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2021

ACROSTIC POETRY // Droid Avunculate

Uncle, tell me a bedtime story!
Promise me sleep right after that?

Bearded myths say there’s a purgatory
Right after death, right after begat.
Its goddamned inmates are forever doomed to
Never succeed in finding ease of breath,
Getting sick with chronic, emotional flu,
Insides torn ‘tween flame life and ice death.

No way, Iron Uncle, do they still have human pith!
Godspeed, Tiny Tin. People are just a silly ancient myth.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018