Debi Orton's Editor's Pick:
The Seed Collector
by Ily Goldfinger
Slice across the belly.
A clinical cut, I see.
No spilt blood on the sheets —
though your latexed claws left prints
on the scalpel
and the lids of her eyes.
Were you afraid to see yourself mirrored —
Dorian Gray seeking youth eternal
in her seed?
Did she grant your twisted prayer?
Final gasp saved in a clear bag
kept in your pocket
thinking you had her soul,
you take it out evenings hoping today
it might look more like the you
in your daydreams.