HOMETOWNWOTEMOH by E . M . Roy
we know it all the burnt brick and paved-over driveways packed-down leaf-paths , eternal maples and oaks . we could walk blindly every scorching night by the alien light in the windows of our houses that casts your red face from below , so below as above ( and never get lost ).
you are what you eat and , every scorching night , four walls digest my bones and sting my lips and your mark on my neck acid blood pulses under the plaster to glance the backs of our hands and seep into the humid molded mollified basement . i ’ m not sure where you went , but you left your body here — ( is there a lost and found ?)
E . M . Roy is a 21-year-old writer from Maine . She finished her bachelor of arts in English from Boston University in three years , graduating in spring 2020 at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic . Now she works at a small advertising agency and is working on her first novel , a queer young adult horror tale .
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