The Horizon Bleeds and Sucks Its Thumb
A flare arcs across the sky to spotlight barbed wire and muddy trenches. A pause, a moment of clenched breath, to consider this expanding light. Another wave of Italian suits surge over the top of the trenches. You expect soldiers but get plutocrats, charging into the starburst swinging their slinky electronic devices. Dress shoes sink into black muck, ties scorched by shrapnel. Machine gun fire ricochets one captain of industry onto a landmine. He is thrust skyward—valise blown open, paper money fluttering like pornography in acrid smoke, around the perfectly grim halo his head makes in the dying blink.
Photo credit: Water Watcher
Funny, timely, lyrical: that’s a lot for 100 words!