Midnight Morning

The Norwegian across the hall came into my room to say, “I’d like to be nice to you but this chip inside my brain hurts. I do like to watch you and often wait for you to come home. Your hands are kind like puppies.” She popped a Pepsi can and said, “If you have a Bible, may I borrow?” Seeing my Bible, she said, “It doesn’t look much like you listen to it.” She took that Bible across the hall and soon spoke in tongues, or, possibly, Norwegian.

This is an original publication.

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Reid Mitchell, a New Orleanian, now teaches in China. His poems have appeared in various journals including Cha, Asia Literary Review, Pedestal, and In Posse. Reid’s “You Don’t Get One Thing Without The Other”“Sea Shells” and “For J.G. Ballard” are also in Reprint.

Object(s) to bring back to life: “The dodo. I am sure they were delicious fried but as it stands I have to speculate.”

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