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Weekly Contest #365
Effigy My little brother has the bones for ballet but instead he runs track. Three of his trophies are on display, golden twelve-year-olds mid-sprint atop them. When we light the fire below them their muscles glint orange, they melt. He is sick in bed today, from running too long in the cold. I am watching him from a crack in the door. I am watching him breathe from a crack in the door. He is wheezing. He has a blue carpet and a blue backpack and a bowl of red candy. He has a shelf full of plastic cars and helicopters and soldiers and he has...
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