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I contort the Rubik cube leaf puzzle, the leaves slip off the cube, dissolve and scatter
on the brown ground. With auric glue I twist orange-to-orange, rust red-to-red orange,
yellow green to sober antiquated brown. The leaves hiss at me. They are not socialized
to humans. I shove together a green triangular leaf against a crushed shape whose edges
appear nibbled with a leaf that blushes a delicate coral red when pinched. I hear a moan.
A mouse scrambles by tells me I am in the wrong game. He suggests Bingo down
the street at the Elks social club. The bingo cards are more gregarious and approachable.

Elizabeth P. Glixman is a poet, artist and writer. Her written work captures the humor and the strangeness of modern culture as well as the fluid world of personal emotions. She is the author of four poetry chapbooks. Elizabeth is an assistant editor at FRiGG magazine.
Current Issue
20 May 2024

Andrew was convinced the writer had been trans. By this point his friends were tired of hearing about it, but he had no one else to tell besides the internet, and he was too smart for that. That would be asking for it.
You can see him / because you imagine reconciliation.
It’s your turn now. / the bombs have come in the same temper— / you in your granny’s frame
Friday: The Hard Switch by Owen D. Pomery 
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