Migraine Nocturne
Abstract
On her vaulted porch, long after dark, she feels all five autumnal auras fire up at once. Woodsmoke masks the smolder of decay, the last hard cider kindles to giddiness, cold numbs her windward cheek, crickets, close to flatline, blip-blip blip-blip, and, through the complicated earth-to-air ramifications of her unpruned, blighted arbor vitae a too-red blindspot scintillates in the nextdoor neighbor's living room, decussates from merely dextrous to frankly sinister, and...