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CONTENT WARNING:



who’d have thought
your grandpa merle

would be the first to turn
into one of those

no-good pests, eating up
the neighborhood

like a june bug, sinking
his teeth into anything

with a pulse.
last night, i found

him in the garden,
tongue lolling

from his mouth,
flesh dangling

from his incisors,
blood dripping

on my begonias.

who’d have thought
a pair of gardening shears

would slice so smooth
through your grandpa’s

forehead.



Emory is a queer Cleveland-born writer currently living in Columbus, Ohio. With a few miscellaneous degrees under her belt, she now scoops gourmet ice cream for a living. When not writing, you can find her trying to keep her plants alive and daydreaming about giant alien robots.
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