Dragonflies in the Cowburbs by Dreese Donelle;Faktorovich Anna;Anaphora Literary Press;

Author:Dreese, Donelle;Faktorovich, Anna;Anaphora Literary Press;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anaphora Literary Press
Published: 2015-03-13T00:00:00+00:00

NOT SEEN, NOT HEARD

There was a sad girl who liked sad words. She liked to string them together on a piece of paper in rows like church pews. One day, the words finished their prayers and got up and left. The church grew cold and the candles burnt themselves out. The girl had a father, but one day he died, and all of the people came to the church pews to pray for his soul and say goodbye. But, soon they left too and the church grew cold and the pews creaked with loneliness, and from that day on, when the girl walked anywhere, she looked down at the ground.

The girl’s mother was a pharmacist who didn’t believe in drugs, and the mother had a boyfriend who didn’t believe in teenage girls. He grimaced and smirked when she spoke her teenage words, and she grimaced and smirked when his fat belly hung like a blob of rolling marshmallow over his wide, leather belt. He said, children should be seen and not heard. He talked about guns and war, which made the girl sneeze, so one day she put cat poop in his shiny black shoes and blamed it on the sassy cats that hated him. The mother cried late at night, but laughed during the day, and dispensed pills to sad people who wanted their pain to go away. The girl left the house early and often came home late. Not seen. Not heard.

The girl had a friend who liked aerosol cans. The friend liked them so much that she breathed the aerosol air, and one day the air finally took her breath away, and the sad girl went back to the church, and all the people came to the church pews to say goodbye to her friend who liked aerosol cans. Not seen. Not heard.

So the girl went to the mountains and stood amongst the trees. She hollered into the rafters of the wilderness. She stood inside a valley where the snow was piled high, and her voice echoed promptly from the hills on both sides. The crows began to shift on their branches, spiked with needles, like the people in the churches who shift within their pews. When she finally left the mountains, her voice was hoarse and tired, but her heart had broken open like the walnuts on the ground. She went home and filled her notebooks with sad words about the sad people she knew, and went to sleep without a sound. Not seen. Not heard.

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