Fast Fiction

Metaphor — by Kathleen McGookey

It’s a spotlight, flicked on. A globe full of air, suspended, no sloshing water, no fog. An onion, a turnip, a potato, peeled and ready for stew. A lost silver birthday balloon, rising in the sky. A charm made to hang from a sick girl’s neck. A dirty snowball, rolled in the yard. A stainless colander next to the white mixing bowl. For heaven’s sake, talk about something else. It doesn’t care who gazes upon it, especially you, unschooled, or your onion-skin promises, ring box open.

                                                  Mornings after, it’s a blood orange, sliced and dripping on the clouds. Make that tarnished silver dollar into a watch, and it just might love its own movement or the hands that stroke its face.
_____
Kathleen McGookey
Kathleen McGookey’s most recent book is Stay. Her book At the Zoo is forthcoming from White Pine Press in spring 2017.  Her work has appeared in Crazyhorse, Denver Quarterly, Epoch, Field, Ploughshares, Prairie Schooner, and Quarterly West.