star of the county down.
By syf sloane.
“i ask her for a cigarette, cutting my tongue on her sharp cheeks. she gives me one rattles francais to her lipstick companion while i nod and watch two squirrels clamber up a stone horse.”
Artwork by Alejandro Aboli.
and in montreal they call her statue for the way she rules the park. i ask her for a cigarette, cutting my tongue on her sharp cheeks. she gives me one rattles francais to her lipstick companion while i nod and watch two squirrels clamber up a stone horse. cadets on bikes swoop us in formation. she, the statue, keeps smoking. smiles at the cadets with disgust in her eyes. the squirrels stumble from the stone horse, regain their balance. and the cadets whirl away muttering francais to the tune of her winsome laugh.
and in calgary she jumped in front of a train. the driver, clairvoyant from years on the job, noticed the sharp shadow hovering at platform’s edge and slowed; when she realized she was alive, she cursed the sky and ate the sun. the driver and i dragged her off the tracks, placed a cigarette between her lips, called the day night, and let her just breath. she assured us she would do it again. the driver said she wouldn’t. i’m inclined to believe him.
and in glasgow we met by the hippo sculptures she had designed and i’d seen in montreal. she smiled at everyone passing her by, with such glow that they didn’t notice her bare feet or naked body. i took my shirt off in sympathy, felt the cobblestone heat warm my spine. smiled with the devil’s toss of a hefty stone. watched the pigeons splatter shit on politician’s tight spandex suits. the statue and i sit and smoke and say nothing. being here is enough speech for either of us.
and in amsterdam we visit cafes along canals smoking joints jittery from coffee pretending it is the seventeen hundreds and we are kings about to become queens regal and assuming true power the power of the market and the power of the printing press i have zines for her to read she chooses instead to sprinkle the pages into the brown water and we learn that my words know how to float.
and in derry we stay up all night listening to a lady gaga impersonator tell us how sharp the teeth of english prisons are, recounting how it feels to kill a man without ever knowing what his aura would taste like still tingling on your tongue. at two am we order pizza and give the queen the largest slice. we dance to ska and tangle our shoelaces together. in the morning we will sit in the library wondering who can make us remember the people we forgot to be.
The Blood Pudding – September 5, 2024
syf sloane, (fae/faer/faerself) is a full-time tea-drinker, part-time forest cryptid from Mohkinstsis/Calgary, Treaty 7, Alberta, Canada, Turtle Island. The 2022 winner of the Barbara Schneider Writing Award in Communications, faer work focuses on sound studies, nature, queer identities, and Outsider art. Fae have written nonfiction articles for publications as diverse as university campus newspapers (the Gauntlet), the Christian Courier (community newspaper) and filling Station (experimental literature). Faer poetry and prose has appeared in numerous magazines both online and in print, including Canthius, nod, deathcap, the anti-Langurous Project, Lida Literary, Bourgeon, peculiar, Red Coyote, and Tofu Ink. Fae’d like to be reincarnated as a grouse, next time around. You can find faer on Instagram as @sheepiemcgoaters, where fae typically post cups of tea half-drunk and books mostly read.
Artwork: Alejandro Aboli’s work (1980) transcends the boundaries of photography. Through digital tools and collage, Aboli creates unique characters and scenarios that would be impossible otherwise. His work, which draws inspiration from cinema – Lachapelle, Nolan, Wong Kar-Wai – and uses photography, tells stories that channel emotions and guide viewers towards deep reflection about the self. You can find his work here.