Matt McBride's work has recently appeared in The Cortland Review, Impossible Task, Guernica, The Rupture, Rust+Moth, and Zone 3 among others. His first book, City of Incandescent Light, was published by Black Lawrence Press in 2018. His most recent chapbook, The Mourners Forget Which Funeral They're At, was released by Greying Ghost Press in 2021.
Spent extinguishersleft perpetual fog. Cement trucks of margarita mix.We took every stone from the cemetery. Sunsets were iridescentas gasoline’s skin. We were like plastic foodinside a vitrine. We were some of the only people alive.
The piñata was filled with titles for used cars. Everyone’s phone rang simultaneously.No sleave without tassels. We were gummy wormswriggling in candy compost.There were meat raffles;there were weird ponies.Though blindfolded,we could see some, but didn’t want to ruin the game. Knowing half the lyricswas justification enoughto join the song.
We grew like goldfish,big as our glass walls allowed. We were dolls watching elephants.Our insides coiled tight as baseballs. Rain made the whole city a dancefloor.