Guy Benjamin Brookshire


Our mother feeds us, and then, quietly, teaches us how not to be eaten. But not all mothers. Some mothers eat their children. Some snap them up in teeth like needles. Some lay another kind of egg in the living flesh of their young, a place made numb with anesthetic stings. Some, the same, the sane.
Go into the kitchen where the icebox hums like Stonehenge at the intersection of magnetic lines. Stand before the door. Open the door. Ask your mother for some milk.


Shelter. Food. Air. Water. Your body. Her body. Your muscles. Her blood. Being on the grass in the sunshine by the house under the sky on the red check blanket.


To be sure, you must feel.

Guy Benjamin Brookshire was born in Searcy, Arkansas in 1977, got covered in fire ants in 1980, and traveled widely. He studied poetry at The Writing Seminars at Johns Hopkins. He is the father of two girls, and writes and collages in Vallejo, California. He is the author of The Universe War, a collage comic book. New Oldestland, a chapbook of collages and writings is forthcoming from 421 Atlanta in 2014.

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