Halcyon Days
by and published in Edition Four of Pomegranate
Richard Grey, moreso his head, heaviest at the forehead, tolls squarely on the pillow.
Although the alarm clock still giddied from its loud exclamation, rung and sirened, he couldn’t unlock himself. Not from the perfect horizontal, laid flat on his back, bored and unwilling to flick that buckle of spine. He wiggles out of sleepfullness, his eyelids like fluttering moths. A splintering in the back followed a sonorous yawn. He tries close his eyes, to ignore the dull flatness, the pain radiated from his cranked back. Rachel slept by his side, nude if for the palm casually laid on her mons. The dark triangles under his eyes gradually eased. Bloodshot veins slacken with each unheard, double-barreled pulse.
While in the oblong mirror, long and enchanted, his reflection. Odd and unfamiliar, that reverse of his own face. So he tugs and pulls at his cheeks. With a finger deep pressed against his face, circled an enclave right about where a dimple ought to be. The sex was a meddle in the dark. Such slithering unable to see shape or eye––sullied outline, blunt, cold faces. She had placed Richard’s prattling palm over her bare throat. A gasp under a breathless hand. He rolled back on his hips, as to not concentrate all his weight on a slim neck. Her tits echoed his dull putsch, knee fattened thigh, an ugly thrust. The deepening darkness. The dulled constricting air.
Wes Brown
Wes Brown is a 22 year old writer based in the north. His poetry and prose has appeared in numerous journals up and down the country. He is the General Editor of Cadaverine Magazine.