Hadley Hendrix
Bio:
Hadley Hendrix is a Copyeditor and Marketing Liaison at Trio House Press and is currently studying Psychology of Fiction at the University of North Florida. Her work has previously been published in Talon Review, alongside other publications, including Élan, The Rising Phoenix Review, and Scholastic, where she’s also won several awards. She looks for stories that eat at life and leave readers with its seeds, the pulp sticking to the sides of an empty glass.
relocation
limbs pull then shrink
something like sun stretched trees
rings compress there is life here
chins
touch the sun
then fall
spines cower
hands hold less
soil: life through death
mirrors stars spinning from dust
breaching darkness briefly before light shrivels
black
something like sun stretched trees
rings compress there is life here
chins
touch the sun
then fall
spines cower
hands hold less
soil: life through death
mirrors stars spinning from dust
breaching darkness briefly before light shrivels
black
a moth zaps himself repeatedly on my porch light
he has grown tiredof pollinating night’s flowerslongs for warmthbatters his chalky wings:
intricate patterns flutteringsome fur, soft brownmarks so dark, a violent purple bruising dust to soot
i stare at vast circlesblanketing powdered wingswatch how they look at me
the coffee in my hand burnsits warmth melting parts of methat are freezing
the moth rests, turns back to the bulb& i realize just how much i long to be lovedas he makes a soft twitch, hitting the burning light
intricate patterns flutteringsome fur, soft brownmarks so dark, a violent purple bruising dust to soot
i stare at vast circlesblanketing powdered wingswatch how they look at me
the coffee in my hand burnsits warmth melting parts of methat are freezing
the moth rests, turns back to the bulb& i realize just how much i long to be lovedas he makes a soft twitch, hitting the burning light