A chain of maggot mandibles cuts across
her exposed neck. Out of her beige skin, stripes
jut like so many scabbed-over scars. You watch
as knobbly body and humidity meet, distorting
like she’s been decaying this whole time. Threads of scent rush
into your nose, each one carrying the sweaty musk
of infested root. At a beach nobody can remember,
she is surrounded by sweet floral dust. She stares at the sea
foam like it is saliva from a raging dog’s jaw. Her raw lips are frozen
in an exhale, and for a moment, you feel her citrusy breath
redden the whites of your eyes. You are howling
her name into the gray matter in your mind. There are things
you want to say to her, but they (burrow into the swollen flesh
of your throat) are unsayable. You want to wipe the amber
frost of fungus off of her face, but your spindly fingers spasm
with fear. Instead, you watch her stand unmoving
in the corner of all vision. Another bright flower wilts off of her head,
sinking towards the other remains on the shore. She festers so
softly…
Leena Rajkotia is a writer from Bethesda, Maryland. You can find her work in her school’s on-campus literary magazine, The Red Wheelbarrow. Leena is a freshman studying creative writing at Interlochen Arts Academy.
The Etymos Review 
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