Sally Doyle

SKINNING A CHILD ALIVE

A whole bunch of mothers drank brandy in our basement
plotting the best ways to skin a child alive. These were our
creepy mothers who we listened to night after night as we
sat on the cellar stairs. In the daytime our mothers looked
normal. They buttered bread and ran vacuums over the
carpets. They didn’t look into our eyes. Gradually the
holes in our mouths closed over like scars until we never
said another word. Our skin evaporated so we could no
longer be seen in public. We hid in the bathroom. Then
one day we stopped waiting. It was like it had already
happened.

—from Rattle #31, Summer 2009