Tinder Date

 I led her by the hand to the two great rifles stripped from a battleship corpse. They pointed out to sea, to guard the city from what might come shambling out the ink and froth. We would make one form there together in the latent heat of our crimes. All the while the lights of patrols cars hunted for our fugitive forms. 

 We met that afternoon among a museum gallery of knives, and clubs fashioned from broken nails. All stripped from the dead figures of the old war no-one survived. In its muted grey corridors I impressed her with my knowledge of field surgery. 

We each chose our favourite pieces from the display cases’ crystal glitter, and cut a route through the gift shop.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s