Flash Your hands on my first digital camera, your nails so round and soft at the capture. What am I then? Ripped ballerina tights or a half-released bun? Just don’t let me see. I want you to do it, girl—he showed me what bodies can do, and now, my hands don’t belong on anything. I am 11, and already I wish to fracture the universe with a flash. Let us be Then, let us be the arm you used to shoulder me into the frame, into you. You can’t imagine what parts of a man can be stored in a silver box. That insistent arm of yours has kept me alive. Cloe Watson is a graduate of the MFA program at Bowling Green State University. Her work has been published in Blue Unicorn , The Windsor Review , Oakland Review , Grand Little Things , The Racket Journal , Wingless Dreamer , Beyond Words Literary Magazine and Defunkt Magazine .
Flying Island is the Online Literary Journal of the Indiana Writers Center, accepting submissions from Midwest residents and those with significant ties to the Midwest.