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Phantasmagoria by Camille Ferguson


We brewed the tea from stalky & skeletal

mushrooms, chalk-hued & musty smelling.

Ground to dust, & swollen with water,

the end result looked a lot like rot.

Can you believe that? We swallowed

rot & our eyes shot light.

The apartment filled from floor to ceiling

with individual crystalline whorls. I reached

out & turned worlds on their heads.

Even trauma kaleidoscoped.

The bathroom shone, opalescent.

White walls glowed, streaked with light

pink & lavender pastels of iridescence.

I was sitting inside of a pearl,

a moon, a lifetime.

I was a glimmer in the depths of existence,

curled against the cool & mothering

floor. I was just a wonder—another bioluminescent

bizarre eccentricity where words beauty

& monster were never born

without the invention

of the mirror or the intrusion of man.

Camille Ferguson lives in and loves Cleveland, Ohio. She graduated from Cleveland State University where she received the Neal Chandler Creative Writing Enhancement Award. Her work is published or forthcoming in Rabid Oak, Madcap Review, Drunk Monkeys, and Okay Donkey, among others.


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