Tag Archives: S. P. Flannery

The Urine Den

She stands in urine that coats a forgotten men’s restroom, light from a single 40-watt bulb flickers her shadow against tile, there is a miasmal moistness that crawls up the mirrors and makes the porcelain slick. Thick yellow urine trickles down … Continue reading

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Culturally Eutrophic

Water drips invisible from fluorescent lights, a din against the metal bucket or the wooden table warped from abuse repeated by spring storms which occur when we sleep, nocturnal caprice of wind currents that catapult rains retrograde, hurricane over the … Continue reading

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