Olivia Mardwig
The Mythologist
I’ve run out of eyeliner.
Which isn’t really a problem,
it’s not like running out of milk, or money.
For a while I thought I wouldn’t need it,
and let me tell you,
it felt good to get rid of something to need.
The make-up could last one more day, so I used it.
And on the way to the train station,
admittedly, with the care I just took, was feeling beautiful,
which is a way to say ready.
A young man noticed me
and smiled in a way that suggested
we could know each other.
Really good eyeliner costs about $20,
which if you think about it
is not very much to exist in somebody else’s mind.
Which isn’t really a problem,
it’s not like running out of milk, or money.
For a while I thought I wouldn’t need it,
and let me tell you,
it felt good to get rid of something to need.
The make-up could last one more day, so I used it.
And on the way to the train station,
admittedly, with the care I just took, was feeling beautiful,
which is a way to say ready.
A young man noticed me
and smiled in a way that suggested
we could know each other.
Really good eyeliner costs about $20,
which if you think about it
is not very much to exist in somebody else’s mind.
The Historian
Between the trees
the after dinner light
breaks apart. Spot-lit,
the grass and a swarm of flies
in the chaotic bliss
of aimless flight.
"You Are My Sunshine"
is being sung in a park,
nearby to this one,
a haunted, human voice
reaching even to here.
In 2010, a 20 year-old boy
said to a 21 year-old girl,
"I have something to tell you
that would make you happy,"
then fell into lush
motionless sleep.
Then, three years go by
and they say,
not to each other, but
to themselves,
"I could live without you,
I could."
the after dinner light
breaks apart. Spot-lit,
the grass and a swarm of flies
in the chaotic bliss
of aimless flight.
"You Are My Sunshine"
is being sung in a park,
nearby to this one,
a haunted, human voice
reaching even to here.
In 2010, a 20 year-old boy
said to a 21 year-old girl,
"I have something to tell you
that would make you happy,"
then fell into lush
motionless sleep.
Then, three years go by
and they say,
not to each other, but
to themselves,
"I could live without you,
I could."
OLIVIA MARDWIG is a writer from NYC. Her work has appeared in Cosmonauts Avenue, FLAPPERHOUSE, Breadcrumbs, and Practice Catalogue among others. @omardwig for instacreeping