by Cori Matusow
Night Hunger
I dreamt we walked the hill where they crucified the old ones:
The horned God & the High Priestess of No Fucks Given
and at its base stands the 7/11, its windows bright like cartoon eyes
Inside I walked the aisles as the coastline
Crashed messy with sea-rot & rosehip
I dreamt we took down the old ones
Their perfect bodies luminous
In the shallow summer night
The horned ones’ side wound dripped like strawberry sorbet
And I stood at the counter, my hands full of wants
And the cashier had his eyes on the screen
Where they kept looping the footage of the crucifixions-
And the newscaster was saying it like this: no one is saved
But we have our choice of purgatory
Elizabeth Wing is a writer and trailworker based in Portland, Oregon. Wing’s work has appeared in venues such as Hanging Loose Magazine, The West Marin Review, 7×7, and is forthcoming in The Washington Square Review, ALOCASIA, Pictura Journal, and Poetry Currency. She has become enthused about magnet fishing. https://elizabethwing.wordpress.com/ insta: @gremlin_m0de .
Cori Matusow is a New York-based writer and photographer. Recent essays, short stories, and photographs have been published in the New Croton Review, Superpresent, Blink-Ink, and Penumbra. Cori has a forthcoming publication in under the gum tree. www.corimatusow.com.