content warning for self-harm
The Gauntlet
Once, our world was a field of undetonated mines
probable explosions when our feet swung over morning’s edge
Clods of mud raining stuck in the muck
Once, every mammal was predator fanged and clawed
We wrestled wild animals moved in slow-motion
each clash stopped
then replayed in technicolor splashes
Once, we carved our arms with sharp knives
Blood-scores: a tally of stripes to feed the deep hole in our souls
Earth People shake their heads don’t get the rattle
We had long since switched
water for Beaujolais Wild Turkey or bitter hops
Once, we called the magician behind the counter
Our Savior of the Corner Liquor Store
Our skin, once the ashtray of extinguished cigarettes
Cognac, elegant elixir Dexedrine, slimming smarts
Our bodies dwindled, our thoughts soared
Until they didn’t.
Once, we were the dregs, the drags, the dreaded.
Scraped dogshit from a shoe—
That was us, once
before we passed through the smoke-filled gauntlet
and pulled our aluminum folding chairs
into a circle.
- An Interview with Abigail Raley, Author of Wet Specimen - May 29, 2026
- The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Sleeping in the Courtyard: Contemporary Kurdish Writers in Diaspora edited by Holly Mason Badra - May 29, 2026
- The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Sleeping in the Courtyard: Contemporary Kurdish Writers in Diaspora edited by Holly Mason Badra - May 28, 2026
