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Jason Sanderson Behind her house, she found a partially eaten rabbit and wrapped it in wool, then fed it to a wolf, which she had spent some time outfitting in shirts that showed its stomach. When her friend saw the wolf, she asked, “Where did you find such an elegant cage for that starving rabbit?” “This isn’t a cage, it’s a rabbit,” the dressmaker said. Her friend followed her inside, so they could get ready to go downtown. “I seem to have misplaced my studs,” the dressmaker said. “We’ll have to blanket the house.” Once downtown, her ears intact, she fitted her friend in a green gown. “It drags the ground,” her friend said. “I look like an unknown meadow.” “It’s perfect,” the dressmaker said. “It buries me,” her friend disagreed. “And in burying excavates,” said the dressmaker. “But it swallows me, dear,” her friend kindly objected. “I’ve always wanted to be happy,” said the dressmaker, moving on to other projects, “but I could never get my stomach around it.” From outside, her space looked like clothes heaped on a sidewalk, waiting for someone to come home. |
Caketrain is a literary journal and press based in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Our interest is in bringing you, reader, the very best in contemporary creative writing, full stop. Our goals are for each issue of our journal to submerge you in a birthing tank for gelatinous language monsters, young masses of tentacular foci undulating as directed (in all, at once) by our eclectic stable of contributors; for each new book we publish to seduce and ensnare you, sometimes intangibly, always undeniably; and for you, reader, to be able to draw at least one passage from our banks that prods your mind with such precision and power that it feels as if it was written for your eyes alone. To wit and to whet, here is a snippet, a slight nip of our delicious lit mix: Loving
5 AM Mourning
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