You Are Here

Leave a comment

October 3, 2016 by The Citron Review

by Lee Cole

 

The moon is a blue flame, and it burns through a thousand miles of blurred ether to reach me. It flickers in the pools of water at my feet. I dip my fingers into the light, watch it shatter. Sam is speaking through it all. He’s saying something about the fire going out. I know what he means. There are frequencies in the air and I feel myself attuned to all of them.

“I’m here,” I say, and I turn my eyes into the dark, looking for the others. I can see Colleen doing a drunken head stand for some people standing around. Her floral dress falls down over black leggings to cover her face and reveal a pale ribcage. Her legs are long and slender. Blonde curls tumble onto the grass. I feel the easy generosity of a thing like that, the lack of anything more than that, than this instance in which it happens. “It’s called Salamba Sirsasana,” she’s saying, her voice muffled by the dress over her face. “I have to stop now though because I feel like my eyes are going to pop out of my head.” Sam is holding his palms to the whirring light, looking over at me like he knows I’m on the edge of something. The pieces of wood in my arms don’t feel heavy or light, only there is the feeling of my arms being taut, of the sinew and grain of muscle being the same as the grain of the wood – the dark knots and gnarled smoothness the same as bone. It carries me, this thought, to the fire, where I let them fall, and they throw sparks. The water whines in them, spews and hisses like something feline. I breathe the sweet pine that sails over the breeze, see the spruce boughs jostling. A column of smoke is flashing and the animal in me understands, looking up at the dark faces of trees, through some archaic apperception, that the light makes a theater, that there is something very old and mysterious being played out against the lacework screen of moving leaves. This has all been a rehearsal for the real thing. The shutter speed of the camera downshifts and a flashing strobe of images trails out behind me like a wake. I see myself standing where I was, looking down at the pools of moonwater, and I see the shattered fragments of that cold star coalescing again, and all the merging presences of the unconcealed growing dark, receding into forgetfulness.

And here they are, where I said was, where my voice made ripples in the ether. They stand over me, my friends. They crouch and place their hands against my throat, touch my cheeks tenderly. They use their thumbs to peel open my eyes. “He’s breathing,” they say. “Can you hear us?” I’m here.

“I’m here,” I say. Fingers grip the back of my skull and lift my head up from the prickly grass.

The sky is washed out and the moon is black with a sea-blue iris. It blinks at me, my moon, my true north. I shake the compass. The “You are here” on the map reappears.

“Are you with us?” they ask.

“I’m with you.”

 

Lee Cole lives and works in Louisville, Kentucky. He is currently studying creative writing at the University of Louisville and has had work appear in Word Riot.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Snow on brush in desert

IMAGE CREDIT: Jill Katherine Chmelko. Protest Road, Winter. 2019.

🍋Our Tenth Anniversary

 

    Cheers to ten years of celebrating the short form.

 

🍋 Instagram

Don't cry...or maybe do. A deeper look at our saltiest moments with Denton Loving's "The Topography of Tears." https://citronreview.com/2019/12/21/the-topography-of-tears/ Denton Loving is the author of the poetry collection Crimes Against Birds and editor of Seeking Its Own Level, an Anthology of Writings about Water. His writing has recently appeared in @lunchwithironhorse, @kenyonreview, #ChattahoocheeReview and #TheThreepennyReview. #amreading #creativenonfiction
US President George Washington rode a horse, of course. So we are recognizing this President's birthday with our Winter Issue story, "The Farrier, by Lisa Tuininga. https://citronreview.com/2019/12/21/the-farrier/ Lisa Tuininga writes fiction and creative nonfiction. She holds a BA in English Literature from DePaul University and has studied at Seattle’s literary center, @hugohouse. Her work has appeared in @belletristmagazine , Adanna Literary Journal, @sharkreeflit, and others (under pen name Lisa Regen) and she is working on her first novel. #amreading #amsubmitting
Whether you celebrate V-Day or you're anti-V-Day, we all have laundry to do. https://citronreview.com/2019/12/15/hanging-out-the-laundry/ Kris Willcox's work is in publications including The Cimarron Review​, @beloitfictionjournal , and @PDXReview. #amreading #flashfiction #litmag
Dive deep into some #flashfiction with @elpattee. https://citronreview.com/2019/12/21/men-learn-to-swim-in-the-deep-end/ Emma Pattee’s writing has been published in @nytimes and @carvecommunity and is forthcoming in @marieclairemag. She was a 2019 AWP Writer-to-Writer mentee and leads the Portland chapter of Women Who Submit. She is currently working on a novel.
We review the debut Cathy Ulrich collection Ghosts of You (@okaydonkeymag) We're over the moon with ZEST. https://citronreview.com/2020/02/09/debut-fiction-review-by-jr-walsh/ #amreading #flashfiction
We're ready to read your Flash, Micros, Creative Nonfiction and Poetry. Submit at citronreview.com

Enter your email address to follow us and receive notifications of new issues by email.

%d bloggers like this: