June 6, 2023

Honest

By Amy Marques

Photo by Scott Webb on Pexels.com

The last time she lied was a minute ago. She hasn’t told the truth in years. Her tongue wraps itself around assurances of happiness with no repentances, she is independent, able, fine, fine, fine. She hasn’t listened to herself in years. Her body screams headaches and stomach knots and bottomless appetites, an urge to rearrange the pantry, the drawer, the closet, the schedule. To break down all the cardboard boxes until they fit just so in the recycling bin. She studies the invitation to a quiet retreat and marks decline.

About the Author

Amy MarquesAmy Marques grew up between languages and places and learned, from an early age, the multiplicity of narratives. She penned children’s books, barely read medical papers, and numerous letters before turning to short fiction and visual poetry. She is a Pushcart Prize, Best Small Fictions, and Best of the Net nominee and has work published in journals and anthologies including Streetcake Magazine, MoonPark Review, Bending Genres, Gone Lawn, Ghost Parachute, Chicago Quarterly Review, and Reservoir Road Literary Review. You can read more at https://amybookwhisperer.wordpress.com.

Related Flash
Tijuana hillside

Tijuana

By Victoria Ballesteros

“In dreams, I glide past borders and through concrete doors to reach places I have never left. I fly over green picket fences and bougainvillea trees adorned with slivers of the past.”
Full Moon

When They Find Him

By Andrea Damic

Full Moon beacons above a silhouette hiding in the dark. She welcomes the silence. Ineffable relief.

Woman in silhouette near the Taj Mahal

Once in our home in Agra, the monsoon was over

By Tara Isabel Zambrano

“we took off our PJs, and became the afternoon—our earlobes and neck, our limbs and nails turning pink from the syringe of the sun, asphalt gritting our feet, downstairs our mothers calling our names circled red with curses…”

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This