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Giuseppe is Dead

December 1, 2020 By Meg Pokrass

Giuseppe is Dead

The pizza delivery guy who loved my sister never looked at me even though we’re identical. He wasn’t really Italian but he called himself Giuseppe and now the one we still call “the Italian” is dead. He’s dead and I prefer to imagine it was me who did the killing, slicing into the back as if he were a large, gooey pizza with extra sausage. It was probably me who did it, I tell myself, because people should be who they are. I tell my sister this, how lies are like toppings nobody ordered.

My sister smiles at me as if I’ve just opened the cage of us. Thank you for saying so, she says, I don’t like men who cheat.

My sister and I are twins but only one of us is a murderer. One of us is a murderer and the other is a lovely cook and we live together as one thing. We look like modern versions of Donna Reed. We’re beautiful in black and white so we wear black and white and my sister the murderer keeps me on my toes for example she says goodnight and I kiss her on her soft, dark hair and I ask her why she must sleep with gloves on. Why must she sleep with gloves on? Well, she never answers my questions honestly and so I wonder. Her hands are so creamy and my sister is too beautiful. I find it impossible to imagine her with a line-up number hanging from her neck.

Confession is good for the soul and sometimes my sister will accidentally fall asleep without gloves on and so I wear them. The gloves feel as if they make love to my hands, and my hands have never needed more acceptance. Only one of us holds the light, only one of us has ever taken a fake Italian lover. As the proud sister I used to imagine myself in the arms of Giuseppe, all saucy and salty, his eyes shining like black olives. I can see myself in the dead boy’s arms even now so I kiss him on his gooey lips and tell him how I feel just like my sister.

This is where he notices me and tells me I’m just as beautiful. He says it to me with a wide open, fresh pink smiling look of surprise.

Giuseppe in dreams has the sweetest tasting tears. He offers them to both of us, and there is something like a feeling of satiation. Choosing one of us over the other, when you think about it, must have been murder.

About Meg Pokrass

Meg Pokrass is the author of seven flash fiction collections, a novella-in-flash, and is the two-time recipient of the Blue LIght Book Award. Her work has been internationally anthologized in two Norton Anthology Readers, Best Small Fictions 2018 and 2019, the Wigleaf Top 50 List, and her work has appeared in numerous literary magazines including Washington Square Review, Electric Literature, Tin House, Wigleaf, Jellyfish Review and Smokelong Quarterly. She currently serves as Flash Challenge Editor at Mslexia Magazine, Festival Curator for Flash Fiction Festival, U.K. (Bristol) Co-Editor of Best Microfiction 2020, and Founding/Managing Editor of New Flash Fiction Review.

Artist Credit:

Brett J Barr is an artist/ tattooist, born in Easton Pennsylvania. He grew up in Daytona Beach, moved to Orlando FL in 1997 and now resides in Chuluota FL. Aside from tattooing at Built 4 Speed Tattoo in Orlando, Brett enjoys many different art forms such as graphite, charcoal, paint, pen and ink, mixed media/ graphic design, woodworking miniatures and studies classical guitar.

Contacts:
brettjbarr@yahoo.com
Facebook/ Brett J Barr
Instagram/ brettjbarrtattoos
Shop Insta/ built4speedtattoos
built4speedtattoos.com/brettjbarr

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