Thursday, February 14, 2013

Water Signs by Chris Benton


We made love during Valentine’s Dawn.

I dreamt briefly of a great blue gator, tearing me to pieces. Later that morning I took her fishing in my canoe down The Cape Fear. On the way I bought two tins of Norwegian sardines, a bottle of Gin, and a single rose. Along the river’s long dark shiver, she spoke of the death wish of dolphins and the bowel movements of the Philistine god, Dagon. She told me she drowned her baby brother when she was fourteen. She told me they were both Scorpios. I caught a thirty pound flathead.  She embraced me proudly and told me she wished I had grown gills within her mother’s belly. Her breath smelled like a waterlogged Bible.

I wish I had grown gills within our mother’s belly.

BIO: Chris Benton was born and raised in Wilmington, North Carolina, where he still resides. His stories have appeared in A TWIST OF NOIR, PLOTS WITH GUNS, THRILLERS, KILLERS ‘N’ CHILLER’S, BLACK HEART, CRIME FACTORY, and SHOTGUN HONEY. He can be found on FACEBOOK

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