missing:
By Jacqueline Parker
Listen to a reading of ‘missing:’ by Jacqueline Parker.
Along highways that cross like constellations of overlapping galaxies you will find a stuffed dog matted from rain and mud and tires crushing its plush sateen heart full of whispered wishes; a lumbar-support office chair without a desk; cigarette butts smoldering in the grass; a purple flower pot, no contents but full of promised life; a CD of a band whose leader was less problematic ten years ago but is still sad and shiny; an American flag dislodged from the back of a Ford 150, windows defended with rattlesnakes and rebels; plastic bags (thank you come again, shop shop shop, great value, gallons of milk, cereal boxes, sunflower seeds, saucer-sized cherry pies); doll house, four bedrooms two bath with a foyer, kitchen, and game room, no keepers, sexy pool boys, or sheared gardeners, but a pink shingled roof and a unicorn sticker; silk roses freshly thrown like rice at a wedding, and a couple cruising away, tins cans rattling, embarking on a journey longer than the four million miles of planned and painted pavement that cuts through wild prairies, suburban families, cities and rivers, mountains lakes and streams, and the redwood pine beech and oak that watch, hover, and arch over a country road littered only with wildflowers.
Jacqueline Parker’s work has been featured in Prime Number Magazine, Flash Fiction Online, After Dinner Conversation, and elsewhere. She is the recipient of the Prime Number Short Fiction Award (’21) and Women on Writing’s Flash Fiction Award (’23). She is currently working on a collection of short fiction exploring the feminine wild.
Find out more about Jacqueline’s work at www.jacqueline-parker.com