You are so lovely. I want to fold you up and stick you inside my red leather purse. I want to slice you open, find the length of your spine, and hear the sound your liver makes. I want to see if your pieces look like mine. I want to cut cookies from your caramel skin, bake you at three hundred and fifty degrees for eight and a half minutes, to take a bite out of you while you’re still hot. I want to collect your stray eyelashes and bury them in my backyard to find out what type of tree they’ll grow. I want to use pruning sheers, cut away the excess foliage and keep the original shape of you. I want to make milk from your bones and pour it into my morning coffee until it mimics your complexion. I want to see your skeleton melt on hot sand. Please, show me your ugliest work. I want to take pictures and glue them to the backs of my hands, the tops of my thighs. I want the meaty mango without the tight-skin peel.
Kristy Webster is often ridiculed by her teenaged son for her habit of mispronouncing common English words. Her strange, quirky stories have appeared in several online journals such as The Ginger Piglet, The Stone Hobo, Connotations, Abacot Journal, A Word With You Press, A Fly in Amber and in two anthologies by GirlChildPress.