An Unkindness of Ghosts

by Rivers Solomon

The pipe smelled of mold and spores. Aster wanted to bottle them up and examine them under the lens of a microscope. They were the Gods and the Heavens. Bacteria sprung into existence first, before bug-eyed fish, before serpents, before thick-legged women with shoulders and backs so strong they could carry their whole families on them. Before they built a ship to fly to touch Gods.

I would cut out my own heart and throw it into the beyond for the split second it would beat somewhere other than this cursed fucking cage.”

My sweet, perfect one—Aster—she quiet like that too. Used to be she never spoke a word. But even now when she talks, it’s quiet, like she never sure the words she’s using is the right words. All her words is the right words to my mind, though sometime she get smart with me, back-talking and all that, but every word out her mouth I love because so what if it makes me angry, I like to hear her. I like to know what’s on her mind. Sometimes I think what she says is foolish, but I say foolish things sometimes too. It’s a woman’s way.