THE ABCs OF A PECULIAR LIFE // G is for Giraffe & Geniality

My neighbour is a giraffe. She’s just given birth to two little babies. Well, they’re little as far as she’s concerned, but big as far as the rest of us are concerned. It’s a matter of perspectives, I suppose. And ladders.

Sometimes my neighbour forgets to put on her maternity bra. When she comes over for afternoon tea, she accidentally lactates all over my fresh clean tablecloth. I know she can’t help it, and there is such a thing as postnatal depression, but still…

Look, no one likes to be rained upon—that’s all I’m saying. Now I’ll have to put the Royal Doulton teacups through the industrial grade autoclave. And, well, she’ll be visiting again tomorrow…

I hope she doesn’t cry. The leaking is bad enough, but the emotional fallout? I don’t know what to do with that. How many times can she keep forgetting? How long must I play the hospitable host?

 

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017

TATI’S TRANSLATIONS // Icicles by Sudeep Sen

Cold blast from an electric vent bites my skin — this comfortable discomfort, prickling my pores bathed in an acrid glaze, transforms to frozen gold-salt.

Attaining instant freezing points might be a rare marvel of science; I like this hellishly good blast that shakes all the embedded molecules in my bones —

bones that are parched in heat, turn to skeletal icicles — a beautiful ballerina-geography of stalactites and stalagmites — each needle-end points towards the other

like the two longing fngertips in Michelangelo’s painting at the Sistine Chapel — desiring a touch.

Струя холодного воздуха, выползающая из вентиляционной решетки, жалит мою кожу. Ласковые крошечные клыки вонзаются в мои поры, впрыскивая ядовитое желе, которое моментально превращается в солоноватые золотистые кристаллы.

Крионика – одно из чудес науки; мне нравится этот маленький атомный взрыв, встряхивающий каждую клетку моих костей.

Мой скелет, сожженный радиацией, превращается в минеральную окаменелость. Мои ребра вытягиваются, словно ноги искусной балерины в батмане; мои кости растут навстречу друг другу, как сталактиты и сталагмиты;

как кончики пальцев на фреске Микеланджело в Сикстинской капелле в их отчаянном и неосуществимом желании соприкоснуться.

 

Poem by SUDEEP SEN
Translation by TETIANA ALEKSINA

© All rights reserved 2017

GUEST POST // Reverend Zombie by Vivian Zems

Reverend Zombie
Dressed in an eerie costume
Using crystal balls
Tells me he can see futures
About me, he tells me truths

So impressed by him
I urge him for more insight
This wonder, this sage
That is when I realise
The Fake’s on my Facebook page!

 

by VIVIAN ZEMS
© All rights reserved 2017

100 WORD SKITTLE // Jump-Off (Follow-up to Push-Up)

That boob was rather more tangible than my eyes had led me to believe.

No mere shadow, it yielded beneath my boots when I jumped on, and as I catapulted away it sprang back into perky, domed perfection. Actually, I don’t know for a fact that it did. I was rocketing at such speed that I was physically unable to check behind me.

No bother. I was more interested in the giant, fiery nipple in the sky. If I could reach that then the Areola Belt wouldn’t be out of the question. Good thing I was wearing my space suit!

 

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017