Small Town

By Eimear Laffan

Talk in the small town and the nothing hiding in it. Caution what ensues. Him is the one she wants but it would be his transgress. How much of claim is truth? Knows the married of him. Knows of lines and crossings for all youth. Knows those puffy eyebrows what swallow his eyes, drowns their looking.

Shared lunch of ideas. Of new country and can’t not understanding sarcasm. Of the Baptists and Born Agains. A church against every corner of desire. Watches how he horizons a concern, interiors a question, silences before an answer. The time taken of him, lacking the rush. How one thing done, the everything.

Trail of coffee after him. Double cream and sugar no. Given up the sweetness. Pure office function between them. Sign here, lease the preparatory documents there. Legal and brief of morning long. Before the circle and pivot. Hands the shoulders back. For posture. Touch in a crowded room so there’s no further taking of it. Carnalling the urge vicarious.

Wife beautiful if boring. Always polite and opinions quiet. Good for him of law and suit. Good for home-cooked and serve. For tasking. Wife more beautiful in her weekend gone. Hard-pressed for the where remembering. Want of him refuses his own foreboding. Anticipates the fuck. The boat rock of easy wind or port smash, the bodily swim of him. Stars in his night churning. I was wondering.

I was wondering. Unfinished half out of mouth proposition. Scrabble of thought and clear. Scotch for the edge. All peat and impossible. All barrel and scrape. The meme of night kiss and throwing off shackle. The no deciding tossing moment to moment of lip and fit. Encircling the clit. Can’t tell if sound is bluetooth speaker or throat rustle. What productions the sound. An awkward watching. Outside of the inside of the coming.

Flat grass estranged with empty. Dredges of the after. Go riverside for the flow and the percolate. Murky with duckweed and algae. Distant church bells echo back the sin. Hard to cast off history and taught entirely. The buckle and fault quiet of anticipated done.

SmallTownWife back from wherever the going of her. More spy on return. Wifing the deep down know. Once bitten and once and once. Primed for the everything ordinary and not ordinary. Smile practice for the face plastered. Art buying for the presentation. To make a marriage appearance. Garden bent over industry. Shovel and spade and kale seed. Evening merlot giggling. Testing the know. Wanting only the allying. Closer tugging the enemy perceived.     

Small town and the nothing hiding in it. Crass of story opening. Of course, not direct lie against all revelation. Doubted whichever play. Represent the face straight. The good husband work. Anaphordisiac the other desire. Ask for the taking back. Ask for it & this is not how time is moving. Unfeeling the expressed sorry. Sounding the lip service regret.

Eimear Laffan is from Ireland. She lives in British Columbia in spite of the snow. Some of her work can be found in Vavaya, Tales From The Forest & The Stony Thursday Book. Find her on Twitter @cadmiumskies.

Art by Lesley C. Weston  (Pen and Gouache)

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