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The Girlfriend Game, stories by Nick Antosca



Word Riot Inc.: Kicking Small Press Into High Gear
Poetry

Café by the Ruins by Rina Caparras

Water runs between the cracks of marble ruins,
acts as the filler whenever we rest our strangely
cacophonous voices. We talk with the admirable intent
of breaking each other. The tea reflects
expressionless faces, dull to the point of
boring, though with every parting of lips
we add more cracks to pillars and deface more reliefs.
You tell me it was strange to meet each other here,
in the ruins of what we were. I tell you it’s appropriate.
We observe the cracks, noting every sign of weariness.
I said it was our amateur
way of sculpting things, we were never
masters of the craft, after all.
Only those who’ve been gifted can mold marble,
the rest of us must live with letting our hands
crumble everything into scrap and waste.
You tell me it was the water
in the background
that eroded the marble,
not us.

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