I have not been back to you since and on the whole, there is no regret.
I will not miss the bird-blue door they broke in the middle of the night
for a laugh. I will not walk in the park, feed the ducks with our babies.
Without you I bind myself more loosely so I’m not aware of the curvature
of my spine and hips. I am all fur and teeth, breathing with flared, wet
nostrils; watch me break new air with steam, measure it if you like.
I’ll leave you harmonicas of birds playing all at once, no particular order
outside the third floor window. We could have been on their level daily
and in discord, we were. It’s all I remember. I’d have been a mountain
bird some day, but I chose the wolf instead and I am happy. I know
that yesterday was forever, but today, I am somewhere else.
~ Zelda Chappel
Zelda Chappel writes, often on the backs of things. Her work can be found in several publications both online and in print including Popshot, Obsessed with Pipework, Lampeter Review, HARK and The Interpreters House. Her debut collection, ‘The Girl in the Dog-tooth Coat’ was recently released by Bare Fiction.
‘Moving On’ originally appeared in issue 1 of The Fat Damsel, and is republished here with permission.