Up the Staircase Quarterly
  • Home
  • About
  • Submit
  • Archives
  • Nominations
  • Support
  • Home
  • About
  • Submit
  • Archives
  • Nominations
  • Support
Search
Picture
"The Lie" by Emanuela Iorga

hunting by Fiona Lu

On Saturday you went hunting with the brother
            whose name you never learned. In a moor shaped
like a fist he prayed and preyed until the lavender
 
blossoms forgot his face. You watched as he tore
            sparrows into endings that sung, minced rabbits
into atlases of light. This was the second time your
 
brother has tried to teach you about survival. The
            first happened at the top of a staircase, where he
taught you that every good son dies when they’re
 
told to. That he is not a good son. As your brother
            drew a blade, unraveled the pelts of smaller things,
you wondered what kind of boy sharpens his breaths
 
to knifepoint. What kind of boy becomes your vice.
            But this poem is not about your bruised shins at the
bottom of a staircase. Nor is it about the time he
 
stuck his hand into a fishtank and squeezed⁠--
            no matter how much you want it to be. Rather, it’s
about your brother’s favorite bruises, his calloused
 
palms, the way he always clasps his hands in apology
            before he feasts.


Fiona Lu is a student from the Bay Area who is passionate about storytelling, no matter what form it may take. Her work has been recognized by the Alliance for Artists and Writers and published in Sine Theta Mag and Kissing Dynamite, among others. In her free time, she likes to read YA novels and think about the stars. She hopes you have a nice day!

​Emanuela Iorga is a filmmaker, artist, and screenwriter, who lives in Chisinau, Moldova. Art represents for her a recently rediscovered passion, following a series of world and inner changes. Her work can be found at https://manolcaincosmos.wordpress.com/270-2/
Picture
© 2023 Up the Staircase Quarterly
  • Home
  • About
  • Submit
  • Archives
  • Nominations
  • Support