About the Author
Alister Flik grew up in a fundamentalist Christian home in the Midwest with a healthy variety of crazy available to her, and her middle child syndrome hardly affects her at all anymore. At 18, she moved to the West Coast, got a tattoo, and now lives happily as a quirky theist amidst the Portland heathens she so dearly loves. Her idols are Joan of Arc (crazy or not), Flannery O'Connor, and Daria. Her favorite superhero is the perfect superhuman combination of Joan of Arc, Flannery O'Connor, and Daria dressed in a cape, armor, boots, and armed with wit and a pen. She is currently looking for someone to illustrate this into a comic book.
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i once knew a pedophile
i, the maid of Honor,
all for the history of secrets as cement
imprinting friends to sisters

me and my tiny breasts
pushed up, padded to points
in a strapless lavender dress
two points
this gave me a look of
false Power
i tried to slouch the extra fabric into my body while the
small congregation
watched the spectacle

and above
Christ on the cross
ankles crossed like a curtsy, effortless
a delicate lie

the bride's dress
off-white, smooth pale skin
would, of course, clash with the clean of white-

the groom's face and hands
thick tan cased in
creases, and on his palms opening like mouths
to take the bride

a wedding minus
father of the bride
his own wife sees her wedding for the first time
in the daughter painted like sugary cake
in her place
feeling the force of this
picture of a loving bond

a wedding minus
mother of the bride's lawyer
job or justice, sends his wishes as consent
with the list of charges
nulled, like age is a number
the consensual sixteen knocking on the
document of a legal bond

i held both bouquets to free fingers
to be tied in his, one
wilting petal brushed by those still alive, and
i couldn't flinch as i watched it drop
i could not wait for this
to end, though the bride would drop
out of high school, i just wanted to be back
to the Quiet
of a thin body before--

when i could look at him
i saw
skin on skin
i knew this man
a kind of kin; more or less

like a brother whose coarse touch would in future
flick crisp across my dreams before waking
swimming in my sheets

wake, like the end of ceremony
to see him; this he and she,
my friend married
and me to memories of mistook sins

but to set the smiles we lined
our greetings with
bits of wishes


as his lined
hand found my back

i lined my cheeks with
bites of wishes

he embraced my body like a doll, and


a child, after all


Last edited by Alister Flik on January 31, 2010, 9:24 pm
"I do not think, therefore I am a mustache."
-Sartre *Nausea*
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