The sun burning at the wharf fun-fair. The Aztec dahlia corsage worn by Miss Savarin is engulfed in flames. She jumps on a go-kart in search of brave firefighters, knocks over a string of clockwork animals marching and bruises the shin of an attendant who cautions her against drink-driving.

The flower turning to ash on her breast. She throws herself with it into an aquarium of ornamental fish with a sunshade. Enchanted by the twilight, the goldfish swim nobly.

The hours brought under the spell of coma-like sleep between dusk and dawn. As she lapses into the calm waters, a skilled wizard emerges from the blackout curtains without a splash. Do not scream in the middle of the night. The dark manhole, as a magic loophole, is left on the beach when the tide recedes. The midday moon and the midnight sun must now be deep underground, heading towards the sky on the other side.

…

hiromi suzuki is a poet, fiction writer, artist living in Tokyo. Her writing has appeared in 3:AM Magazine, RIC journal, Berfrois, Minor Literature[s] and various literary journals on-line.