Winding Staircase A mind rises and falls through planets spinning blue eyes counterclockwise. I don’t remember my projectile existence— leaving my father then my mother but my wife and I went on to make a baby out of a Golden Yukon potato and a bit of elbow grease. I stand on a straw floor, the dogs are barking not far away rust of the steam age burrows across a world both flat and hollow incising intent on all things inanimate. Someone is smashing a hammer on pavement a father telling distant relations his child is almost born. An old woman sits by the stove bored or just cold a withered umbilical cord snakes out from beneath her housecoat rising from morgue and twisted earth; all deformed monsters are inherited, passed on the bell on the oven timer rings— that which should be destroyed can also be transformed into bliss.
Richard King Perkins II is a state-sponsored advocate for residents in long-term care facilities. He lives in Crystal Lake, IL, USA with his wife, Vickie, and daughter, Sage. He is a three-time Pushcart, Best of the Net and Best of the Web nominee whose work has appeared in more than a thousand publications.