Pure Slush

flash ... without the wank


<  In the Presence of Dreams

Wish Me No Dreams  >

by Shawn Aveningo


Young girl,

her silhouette an hourglass.

No need for a corset—

her nipples rose for any occasion,

no boning or underwire required.

So why waste time?


His fingers

clumsily navigate hooks and eyelets

in the back seat,

when all she wants

is to wear his hands like a belt.


The interlacing

of his fingers with hers,

so much more satisfying

than the to and fro dance

of satin ribbon strings.


• • •



now merely a memory in her rearview mirror,

and not

actually closer than it appears.

Tonight, to capture his fancy,

she must shift her sand.


Her story—not a new one,

familiar like scenes in period films.

where the mistress grasps the bed post;

her dressing maiden—foot planted on spine,

tauts the cord, disappears the slack.


Pleased with her slimmer reflection,

she can’t help but ponder,

wonder what it would be like

having one less rib

to fracture. 


published 29 June 2016