Louise Norlie


The girl without feet stands in the pavilion, her knuckles white on the rail. If I touch her she will fall. I try not to watch. Chalk on the lilacs, the light bulbs burnt out. You told me to treat it as the scene of an accident, stand clear and bite my nails. I lift one leg and place it down like a platter, carefully. Your finger draws up my arm to the shoulder. The canopy hangs low, leafing. I part the vines, try to see deeper.

Louise Norlie's work has appeared in elimae, rumble, and sein und werden.

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