The Chandelier

The maggots were rather unsurprising, seeing

as the cake had been rotting for a few weeks

on the kitchen counter. It was an easy thing

to ignore. Scrub the dishes, line the napkins,

rearrange the spices. I had left the glass dome

there to see how long it would take for you

to notice the dessert. To notice me. Show me

how you want to be seen and I’ll follow suit.

Scrub the dishes, line the napkins. I’ll be

here. Dust collected on the lid, snow even appeared

in the apartment. Seasons traversed my episodic

memory, and you were nowhere to be found. So

I waited and watched the larvae grow from thin air.

Flies breed quickly, especially in close quarters,

as does paranoia. Thought breeds thought

just to get by, pass the time. I even started

naming them. When you finally walked

through the door, I had already resolved

to throw the damned thing through the window, glass

on glass. It made for a pretty sight.

Trinity Chapa is a mystic, poet, and undergraduate student of literature based in Arkansas. Her work has previously appeared in A VELVET GIANT and Careless. She has self-published a chapbook entitled The Everywoman's Songbook, Vol. I and is currently working on a manuscript entitled domestic gossip. You can keep up with her on Twitter @trinity_chapa and on Instagram @cherrycolouredpunk.