The Novice

By Sunnie Gaylord

He began by breaking down pen
spinning, telling me even the spaces
in between fingers have names, 12,
23, 34… I was more interested when
I believed he was psychokinetic, but
I kept listening to him explain the
finger slot system because his tone
was one I’d let guide me out of body.

He looked like a worn ghost story,
one with the backbone to withstand
generations just so I could hear its
entirety. He described the Shadow
and Inverse Shadow while my eyes
trailed into the dusk of his sleeves.
How many undiscovered caves are
there due to a lack of decent roads?

He told me “Mostly everything is
abbreviated and punctuated.” I felt
like asking what he did with the time
saved, but instead I pried


He quoted Carl Sagan and suddenly
I was craving carameled apples.
Arachibutyrophobia, I cringed.
“You’re pretty when you make that
face.” He admitted, his stain-glass
irises never looking at the white pen
that promenaded around his fingers.

Categories: Issue 4, Poetry | 1 Comment

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One thought on “The Novice

  1. Cork

    Who is the novice? I liked the peanut butter.

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