In Kyoto you attend a lavish, decadent dinner for which you’ve paid a small fortune to eat off the body of a beautiful woman. Like the others at your table, you clap when she’s wheeled in and make hazy murmurs of appreciation until the old scarecrow on your left abruptly lifts a piece of tuna from her throat. Next, a nipple is revealed. A red toenail. Now it’s your turn. For a moment you deliberate, then remove a rose petal from her stomach. The skin you’ve exposed is damp and white. The navel, a small crater on a soft moon.

Jacques Debrot’s poems, stories, and artwork have appeared or are forthcoming in more than fifty journals, including Exquisite Corpse, Wigleaf, and Pear Noir. Two of his stories have been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.

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