My husband is a wrestler.
He knows what blood
looks like, how it
behaves. My husband
has dealt in blood,
has paid for his
mistakes in blood. My
husband knows what it
is to disappear into
blood, to ask a total
stranger holding a
metal object to please
blade you. My husband
is a magician and he
casts his spells in blood.
When he looks up from
his cauldron and asks
“Where is Amanda”, the
universe expels a small
girl from its imaginary
uterus, and the trees and
the bushes sigh in
unison, praying for the
bloodletting to stop.

— Linebreak
 — forthcoming, The Pit
 — (Penguin, 2018)

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