Ken Poyner


ASSIGNED TASK

Three fishermen on an insubstantial boat netted something the winch could not retrieve – so they united astern and hauled together, the winch being charged with only taking in the slack. After cruel minutes of coordination, the catch in the bottom of the net popped over the end of the boat. Thirteen fish and a woman. To the amazement of all, the woman stood. One man went to get a blanket to cover her nakedness, one began sorting fish of legal size from those not legal, one pretended to comfort the winch while suspiciously ogling the woman. Which man are you?



CIVIC CONTROL

He has until Tuesday to turn in his shadow. He has already detached it, run it twice through a wash of unaffiliated light, shaken out as many of the wrinkles and creases his life has burned into it as he can. He knows that, with close inspection, there will be scars and secrets left, and the shadow will easily be sired to him – will, despite open borders, define him. He considers how best to fold it. Like most citizens, he learns to move about without shadow. Will the authorities issue new shadows? He joins the betting pool that says yes.

 

CONDITIONAL USE

Our official sport is King of the Sidewalk. No matter the place, anyone traveling one way on a sidewalk meeting anyone traveling the opposite way, must contend for complete right-of-way. It does not have to be actual combat – but someone must give way. Usually, two individuals or two groups assess one another and one steps away from the sidewalk. At times, there are shoving matches. Group contests often devolve to one member of one group claiming the entire sidewalk for his group. Yes, our sidewalks are broad enough for people to pass in opposite directions, but this is our tradition.

 

CURIOSITY

The question that keeps the crowd in place is: will the woman drop off, or leap? From six stories below it is difficult to adjudge intentions from facial expressions or body language. People ask one another if anyone in the gathering knows the woman, can provide information on her likely choice. Those who think she might leap pose a secondary question: feet or head first? She allows one hand to go free and onlookers make their final appraisals. Once she is in the air, there is only fact and folly. No one, not even she, retains the power of options.


 
OFFENSE

It is not like the boy intended to marry a zombie. They have come so much to resemble people, or people have come so much to resemble them, that it is hardly worth investing the time to tell them apart. Quibble has heard, however, that if you want a spouse who might lovingly nibble on your fingers at night, marry a zombie. They sleep lightly, and are always restless. Maybe that is what the boy wanted. The role of husband changes with the corporeal status of one’s intended spouse. Quibble pinches his wife to draw warm blood, reaffirm his script.

Ken Poyner’s four collections of brief fictions and four collections of speculative poetry can be found at most online booksellers. He spent 33 years in information system management, is married to a world record holding female power lifter, and has a family of several cats and betta fish. Individual works have appeared in Café Irreal, Analog, Danse Macabre, The Cincinnati Review, and several hundred other places. www.kpoyner.com

 
 

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