Winter 2005-6

Rochelle Ratner


Every time he shakes the dice he hears two people brushing against each other. A man and a woman, late at night. Little black eyes inset in a milkwhite face. You'd think they're dalmation puppies. No, never, and don't try to hold me back. Those are just some of the words he hears, or pretends to hear. All bark and no bite, as the woman reassures him. Those two so close together, always together, hot from the warmed hand. He blows as if to cool them. The woman tenses. The boy he was once sits up in bed. His emptied hands feel cold, then colder.




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