Brittle / Ilana Fogelson

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Brittle / Ilana Fogelson


Published 15 November 2017

Poetry • MHP(PS) 012
Saddle-stitched • 5.5 x 8
12 pages • ♾♽

Limited edition of 100

Distribution • MHP

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Rule number three stated that all grocery lists, lists of errands, lists of any kind must be written in blood. To this end, they pricked their fingers on cactus spines. They kept the plants on any and all kitchen windowsills at any and all of their various residences and, whenever they moved, carried the spiny bulbs in their laps as they rattled in rented moving vans across the country or down the street or over the bridge. The desert plants were preferable, anything requiring more constant care died, it seemed to Harrison and Lillian, just as soon as the pair took the flora into their hands. The leaves crumbling brittle into their palms as they tossed this debris straight out the window. They grew fearful, then, of anything lacking in resilience. Though the feeling never overtook them for longer than a minute or two or an evening at a time.