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Cluster index: Meg Pokrass

Three short fictions.

By MEG POKRASS.   Clouds, the Day After You Were Born he day you were born, clouds flirted with each other. They had nice hair, ideas that led to better formations. Easily they blended into pleasant shapes. But the day after you were born, clouds argued about some misunderstanding. In the middle of the night, they collided in the cold kitchen. The one, slouched over martini breath, said, Why do I frighten you? The […]

Several Dwarves and One Pet.

Meg Pokrass: ‘When he died, she decided to stop procrastinating, to research hand-raised snails, the most loyal and trainable. He was no longer there on the couch, complaining about the weather.’

Six prose poems.

Meg Pokraass: ‘There’s a good chance that eventually things will deteriorate to the point where you launch mopey tweets at one another, him tweeting coy pink hearts to your tweets and you regurgitating chartreuse hearts back to his.’