Fog Machine

By Kat Dale

When they do the intake interview, all I can think about is the loud, beckoning beat of last night. It’s haunting, the way the fog machine haze makes shapes in my lungs and gets caught in my throat. I think if I forced myself to cough right now, it would be just blood and the myth of nighttime. The moon is always switching jobs with the sun, but I miss it every time. Too early, or too late. I sniffle pointedly and tap the skinny heel of my pump against the cold linoleum floor, matching the rhythm I hear in my head. They want me to remember the first time I did cocaine. My shoes are red and shiny like brake lights on a car, or the reflective parts of a bicycle. I can’t remember the last time I was in a car. My eyelashes flutter up and down, touching my eyebrows. Up and down. They don’t understand me, I know. What a boring question to ask, when there are so many others. What a boring drug to choose, when there are so many others. Lighters, needles, spoons, little plastic baggies. Usually I rub it between my gums because I’m afraid my nose will bleed and ruin my outfit. I want to rip my tape-in extensions out so hard they split my skull open and everyone can see my brain. Then I’ll really need rehabilitation.

Meet the Poet

Poetry - responds to the literal astronomical image of orbit and engages with cyclical ideas of life. Bio - Kat Dale (they/them) is a senior Creative Writing and Literature and Media double major. They are the president of The Marymount Literary Society, the managing editor of The Carson Review, and now the co managing editor of TwoTwoOne! In their free time, they love live music, Shakespeare and working on collage. After graduation, they will be pursuing an MFA in fiction and teaching the art of writing.