With enough shoe polish, anyone can play an abandoned coal mine,
& in my chest a troupe of soot-covered canaries keep reenacting their long, drawn-out death scene for no one.
Once in a while, instead of dying, one wakes up & bursts into luna moths but they aren’t supposed to.
Sometimes one wakes up & impersonates my mother, down to the last painted on look of not knowing me & I wish they'd stop doing that.
Madison McCartha is an MFA candidate in Creative Writing at the University of Notre Dame and has had flash fiction published in Burrow Press and poetry in The Pinch. Raised in San Diego, he has spent the past few years freezing to death in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where he served as both Assistant Editor and Design Editor for Cream City Review and became the current Poetry Editor for Storm Cellar Quarterly.