Little Offering

N. Ian McCarthy

Mad Bongo Maze

Robinson, the reverend daughter—flesh
of her turned ash ankles pegged into
the middle aged tonsures of a pattern

balding lot—scrubs her two owned ox
calves in the skin temperature socket
of a blue plastic blow-up pool. Its waist

bilges with the juice of freshly tanked
sheep's blood. Clusters of rust, like bog 
wet cranberry fruit, scale four unripe

flanks—they spur into tangled chortles 
of mane as ornamental bulbs. Still young
curds hemorrhage small under the gut

bloat of a dead Pegasus. The hobbled
urban sun is a stuck kite, its strewn
straw hospice an 800 sq. ft. dirt church.

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Author: Kindra M. Austin

Author of fiction, poetry, and very sweary social commentary. Editor and writer for Sudden Denouement, Whisper and the Roar, and Blood Into Ink. Founder of One for Sorrow. Founding member of Indie Blu(e).

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