By Vinny Senguttuvan
Arms amputated, I’m a puppeteer trapped in infinite gesture, a curtsey undulating all day long. Thoughts pulled from my brain like sprouting weed.
Outside is an explosion of sun beams and corporate murals. We stare east and west, as if unsure which way home, awaiting streetcar. Century-old black rails stretch in front, and I wonder what has changed in these years besides debris.
I only want a flicker, a moment of lifted haze, to really see the burgundy on the ribbon. Closing my eyes, I picture my fists to my chest.
Vinny Senguttuvan is writer, photographer and data scientist. His short stories have been published at many places including Emerson Review and Word Riot. He is currently finishing up a novel.
Photograph by Vinny Senguttuvan