serosa

by Amy Hu (@amyhuu)

& the roiling acid – like pressure, like wind – play hangman

with indigo fingers. The noose is drawn but the gun is not; it’s 

pity that brings the best and brightest to immolation. Doe eyes

& broken thumbs. Falsities attract where bared skin stirs primordial

fear. Tell a more careful lie, one not worth repentance, just to see 

the house go up in flames. Mercy beds mendacity to soften its blow –

there is no time for late-night conversations anymore, there is no time

for childish dreams, for the cradle of affection tucked into ribs, for 

planning futures with each other in them. Hurtling down East Peltason,

the old apartment sinks into the walls, like it never meant anything 

in the first place. Pleasure blooms, then mutes itself amidst cookie-cutter 

anger & when was the last time Christmas felt like Christmas without

empty stinging, the whisper of something more winding through the

hammer, the anvil, the stirrup. 

When she’s not trying to hit her StoryGraph reading goal, Amy Hu is eating her way through all the apple varieties she can find (she’s on Sunrise Magic right now). She is the cofounder of Laundromat Literary and has been an editor for her school’s literary magazine for four years. As an avid writer and a Scholastic Gold Key winner, she spreads her love of literature by tutoring kids in her community.