Nika’s Breakfast

NIKA ON ACID

Nika’s Breakfast

The butter’s too hard.

The pressure of the broken knife handle

leaves imprints of alien-like creatures on her little palm.

Slicing through morning rays like a red-hot blade through butter,

she raises her hand, and inspects the outlandish patterns with curiosity:

A school of koi carp,

teeth as sharp as prison razor wire,

are using their fins to harvest two-headed sunflowers

which are growing from within the tip of a giant scorpion tail.

Dark clouds are looming over Dragon’s Fang Mountain. The wind is howling.

Ten Bone Warriors

emerge from a grotto— a cavity

at the foot of the mountain, where their bows shine bright,

even in the fading light; wild puffs of excitement steam-fills the air—

the riders’ horses’ nostrils flare— a dance of death tramples over all things white.

The koi sense trouble;

some dive away and hide between the roots,

they disappear into the scorpion tail’s cracks and craters,

others harvest as fast as their fins can work, craning their necks.

The Bone Warriors’ arrows rain down on the sunflower field. Lightning strikes.

Pop! goes the toaster;

she walks towards the refrigerator,

and rubs her hand on her Spongebob apron.

Her mother inquires how breakfast is coming along;

Nika shakes her head and giggles, says it’s going to be the breakfast ever.

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