The Fight . by Aneka Brunssen

the screen showed a picture of a woman in a straw hat, nothing else, just a straw hat; luscious, moldable; for stress relief, I saw but didn’t say, a glimmering juxtaposition of retraction and release, she saw me thinking, convinced I had done something; something to her, something to eat her insides; predatory senses of a worm in a bird’s mouth. she zoomed in. see this! did you tear her to shreds? reptilian features of an empowered, something like a woman, something like empowered; and my mother was there, behind me. her corpse, and I saw it fuse with her silhouette, I saw it merge into her broken convictions. mother told me, after she died, that I was nothing but a, nothing but a roasted turkey on some meaningless holiday; everyone could have a piece. and that I tasted like chicken. so, I lost myself in the feast. she said; ignorance is no excuse, but see, I was led into a book by a firefly. a lover of stories. the web caught me.

this isn’t my fault. 

ANEKA BRUNSSEN is a writer, poet and graduate student from Bremen, Germany, with a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature and Cultural Studies. Aneka has written several non-fiction essays, in both German and English, as well as a few short stories, articles, reviews and poetry collections. Her work has been published in several American and German print and online literary journals as well as magazines. She is currently working on an autobiographical novel and a poetry collection. 

You can find samples of her work her: http://spacetrashpoetry.weebly.com