Afterwards

Elysion by Elanee Viray

Afterwards

by Daria Kol

There is something here.

My mirror melts into the

bathwater. Dribbles of mercury

leak over the sides. The sludge

is ever-persistent.

There is something here.

"I knelt on the kitchen tile and// held your hems in my filthy// palms"

You were good and I was green.

I knelt on the kitchen tile and

held your hems in my filthy

palms. You turned away.

There is something here.

Tuesday night I go to the laundromat

with Rachel. She laughs when my panties

turn pink. I laugh when her quarters

slip through the cracks in the sidewalk.

There is something here.

Poison blooms in my chest and gnaws

on my collarbone. I taste it on my tongue

and press it to yours anyway. My saliva

burns through the paper under the stamp.

There is something here.

Milk soured in the fridge, I go to the

market. The woman in the fish aisle has

no eyes. She watches me anyhow. She buys

butterfly weed and lime juice and sunglasses.

There is something here.

I walk home alone at night and look up

at the stars, and everywhere I look, another

one appears. They begin to tumble from their

perches. I catch one on my tongue.

There is something here.

I do not know where to put my hands. I dig

them into my ribs and hold the bones. I cut

them free with my teeth. They are meant

for bigger things than me, I’m afraid.

There is something here.

The knife grinds dull in the pit of the

stomach, the snake slithering, the blunt

nectar turning to rust, the bleeding

staunched by the taste of bile.

There is something here.

I eat a pear over the sink. The skin is soft

and sinks in my mouth. I crave another. I

eat the second one, waiting for the same

feeling. It’s underripe. I throw it out.

There is something here.

Do you still hang the lavender above the

door? Do your fingertips still taste like

rosemary? Do you still keep a lock of

my hair in the shoebox under your mattress?

There is something here.

I was meant to be hungry. I was born to be

rotten. I want more. I burn my tongue on

chamomile tea. I stuff my jaws full of

love. I find it underwhelming.

There is something here.

It is at the door. It is in the master bathroom. It

is under the skin. It sleeps with the fishes and

rises with the moon. It strangles me while I sleep

and says your fault your fault your fault-

There is something here.

About the Writer...

Daria Krol enjoys reading by the fireplace and Sour Patch Kids. Her favourite author is Eve Babitz, and she works part-time in the service industry. She hopes to pursue a career in publishing or law.

About the Artist...

Elanee Kristen Viray is a 12th Grader at Douglas Anderson School of the Arts. At the school, Elanee is a visual arts major who dedicates her life to her artistry. She creates art, generally Mixed Media art because of her vast love for experimentation, but she also delves into other mediums such as photography and fashion design. She especially loves creating colorful and fantasy like work, with deep meanings behind them that you grow to understand more by looking at it. Elanee’s work has won multiple awards, from gold and silver keys at the Northeast Florida Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, to Awards of Excellence and Merit in the Duval County Art Show. Her work has also been featured in various exhibitions such as Extravaganza, Douglas Anderson’s personal exhibitions, and more.