'Never satiated' (published in Big Red Cat Issue #2)

published
Scream if you need to go faster, if that's your desire, say the old adage: the customer is always right, is king, and so survey their subjects with dispassionate eyes, demanding. I order some nibbles and remain at the bar with every fibre, despondently slotting them in like a 10p machine rigged against us, until the bowl is clean. The light dims and kitchen closes so I settle and slip home. Never satiated with another bite, another course; a cigarette with the ash hanging on. Drag this skinny fry through that mayo and swallow whole. I feel like an eclair slammed in a car door, dairy on passenger seat, on headrests, which detach if you were sinking as weapons with which to smash through a window and escape. I keep one to hand now. The rest is articulated elsewhere, not in words but senseless consonants clattering in gibberish. I have no business to settle with you. The conversation ends, and here you are: playing chess as both colours to win.
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Welcome to the Stanza Room

published

…and this is the Stanza Room. I do hope you make yourself at home, put your feet up, that’s it. Please do feel free to browse through the collections of poetry, prose, and short stories on the shelves over there. With any luck, I think you might find something you’ll enjoy.


I know your face, don’t I? Oh, yes I do, now, you lived in the house across the road, just down towards the trees on the corner; that’s it, the gate with the spikes missing. Must have been a few years ago now – goodness, you’ve grown! I’d know that little face anywhere. I’ve not seen your father popping out to the shops, as he would, for long and weary; he’d smile over if he wasn’t in a hurry. I do hope the family is well, you tell them I’m asking for them. They’ll know who I am.


Oh, and your brother, that was a terrible thing. When I heard, well, I prayed for you all, I said to myself 'I never would have thought’, but nobody ever does, until after. Kept himself to himself, didn’t he? Always the quiet ones. Still, some years ago now. What brings you back here then, dear? Raking up the past like this. Here, put this blanket over you, that’s it. It is yours, love, don’t you remember? You really couldn’t let go of it, no matter how hard I tried! Would never let go. Biscuit?


As I say, help yourself, even if you couldn’t help yourself back then. I suppose you’ll have your version of events anyway, might want to double-check what you actually remember. I hope you don’t mind if I shut this door? Might not have come back at all if you could remember, properly. You were so cold, being out in the rain all that time. Turning blue. You can rest as long as you like, don’t you worry now. You’re very welcome to stay here, in my Stanza Room. I do hope you make yourself at home, put your feet up, that’s it. Please do feel free to browse through the collections of poetry, prose, and short stories on the shelves over there. With any luck, I think you might find something you’ll enjoy.


— Giuliano Piacentini © 2022


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