Storyglossia Issue 47, August 2012.


by Chris Fradkin


Walked around the apartment with sleighbells round her ankles. Called me when the stove was acting up. Stayed out past the morning when DeAngelo hit payload. Pulled seven stranded kitties from the river. Held a job for three weeks—the next one was for two. Baked a birthday cake on Helmet's birthday.


Sat inside the closet when she pulled her stockings on. Laughed like she was filled with Molly's ether. Wrote this letter to me then she mailed it to herself. Sealed it with a double lipstick kiss. Told me she believed me when I told her that I loved her. Used it as a knife against my throat.


Watched fourteen hours straight of that telethon from Vegas. Cursed the day the two of us were born. "Twins," she said, then spat. I was leaving when she walked out. Spent the evening standing on the ledge.


Told me she was sorry—that she'd make it up by Tuesday. Begged for my forgiveness then for more. Wrote our names in marker—she used hearts to dot the 'i's. Locked herself behind the bathroom door. Tied the knot with care twice around the shower head. Mumbled four Hail Marys to herself. Held her breath then jumped—gravity pulled down. Watched her image as it faded in the mirror.


for DeAngelo, Rossini, & Baroosh

Copyright©2012 Chris Fradkin

Chris Fradkin writes from Central California. His work has appeared in Monkeybicycle, Thrush Poetry Journal, and Mobius: The Journal of Social Change.