Coincidences are For Chums

Written by Keri Stewart
Art by Domen Mirtič Dolenec


my desire wasn’t born
yet
it already had a bed
to coexist with my mortal self
in boundless fields of snowy sheets.
the comfort of the cold was vulnerable

and temporary. frost latched onto skin
and armies of winds shot cannonballs
till organs concluded their pace.

all left without a trace,
at least, for my irrational brain
conversing eternity,
a backwards ideology
as hands pulled push doors
and thoughts scattered like ice,
frozen sheets syncopated to disaster.

nothing was a coincidence.