Kyle Hemmings

Crossword Cannibal in C-Major

Sitting in the park. An outdoor concert.
He was an ex-cellist. Now a bubble.
The bubble pretended it couldn't hear.
"I'm worried about your health," she said,
"pastrami, pastrami, and if not that,
sausauge sandwiches, mozzarella balls
or open steak with fried egges and hot sauce."
Real tart hot sauce is like an Etude, he thought.
The way he once played and pined.
Tree branches leaned as if to listen.
Salubrious, she said, pencil tapping the crossword.
It means healthy. He looked up.
The string section rose and took a bow.
His appetite. His ruined fingers.
He could eat something the size of a cello.
Or the something that ate at him.
He'd wind up eating himself
then he'd burst into cacophony.

Kyle Hemmings lives and works in New Jersey where he talks to disillusioned cab drivers and humble ex-nymphomaniacs. His work has been featured in Technicolor, Amphibi.us, Spork Press, Nano Fiction, Pank, and elswhere.