Ellen LeBlond-Schrader:
Between kicks, the wood pigeons biff and body check until, with a stifled coo, they tumble through the window left ajar. Wings jab the linen curtain, bodies soon sheathed in fibers, feathers brush over nubs. She waits for a sound, but hears nothing. She can only see the muddled forms. It must be quieter than the aerial sounds of ravens and eagles, but at least as loud as a paperbound book. A silence has installed. She flips through the yellow pages, looking for a practice open on Saturdays.
Peddling through empty streets, she remembers the view of her mother’s back from her bicycle chair. Once again amongst the finger paint, she glances at the scale perfect for bread loaves, the animals on the eye chart. Your ears are lovely, Mardi. Now open your mouth, open it wide. Drink this. Open wide again. We’ll do a test right now. Let me take a swab.
When the Waldeyer ring swells, it kisses each sense, pressuring the eye, inflating the ears. An enlarged pharynx hinders all passageways. An internal sphinx, Streptococcus imitates a laryngeal injury. Try not to talk much today, Mardi.
