By Marcus Memmolo
I stack two milk crates and climb into the alley dumpster.
Smells like piss left out in the sun.
Garbage up to my chin. I can almost taste the rot.
I rummage around with my nose shoved firmly inside my elbow.
Here it is. My cleaver.
The blood is still warm.
I lift the wood handle to my nose and inhale the copper scent.
The final fragrance.
Out of the dumpster, I lope down the street with new purpose.
Onboard a bus, blade beneath my jacket.
“Where to?”
I feel the weight of the steel and the weight of the world.
Ugly! Visceral!
Nicely done.
Authentic. Reads like the foreword for a longer piece.
Wow!… You left me speechless… well done…
What a great, visceral piece. Thanks for the good read!
I want to read more! Excellent piece.