"Bodycam" by Jeffrey H. MacLachlan
Bodycam
Long hallway shrieks rattle candelabras. Why is my pistol light as Legos? Did his mask always resemble a smirking axolotl? He continues to recede into the distance as the hallway lengthens. Galaxy Motel janitor's toes salted into constellations. Chambers empty, chambers full, have I tattooed his neck with ebony hearts? The axolotl now crawls toward me. His eyes are closed and appear to be enjoying a pop chorus. My tongue is a purple cold ghost flossing between crowns, and the janitor is now suspended in space. Grinning axolotl face unzipping my wrinkles with repeated headbutt scrapes. Is this all just a mating dance? Hallways lengthen within my pupils awaiting permanent deletion.
Photo Credit: Staff / Artist: Elizabeth Dove