Camp Games
Werewolves, you unscathed bastards, open your eyes and decide who to kill.
At least I don’t have to wear the satin thing
If it’s me let it be drowned out by crickets
just
you
You have never been kind to meYou always pulled my hair.
I owe Tabitha nothing
me
Is some kind of cycle broken? Or have we just started again?
Alysandra Dutton is an Ozarks-based writer working on a collection about destructive women. She is a recipient of a 2021 individual grant from the Elizabeth George Foundation, and you can read her recent fiction in The Sun.
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More in this series
The Agoraphobe’s House
She drank a bottle of poison. It must have been household cleaner. His poem doesn’t specify.
The Kings of Norway
They all were going around trying to prove themselves, litigating the case for their own worth: Look at me, look at me, look at me—I matter, don’t I?
Hyung
They weren’t shaped in the same image he had of the older Korean boys Jacob had not seen since he left, these hyungs who towered over Jacob still.