Kiki Says
By Zach Murphy
Kiki says the stars are dead, but I don’t believe her. We hop trains, we smoke clouds, and we steal snacks.
Kiki says no one wants us, but I don’t believe her. We look like icons, we make the trees laugh at our jokes, and we stitch our hearts with golden thread.
Kiki says our time is running out, but I don’t believe her. We let our voices echo through empty tunnels, we dance with alley cats, and we sing to the flickering streetlights.
Kiki says we’re sisters for life, and I believe her. We have a secret handshake, we have the same colored eyes, and we visit each other in our dreams. We are the shining stars, we are the daughters of the night sky, and tonight, we’re not going back to that awful home until after curfew. After curfew.
Zach Keali’i Murphy is a Hawaii-born writer with a background in cinema. His stories appear in Raritan Quarterly, Reed Magazine, The Coachella Review, The Vassar Review, FOLIO, and more. He has published the chapbook Tiny Universes (Selcouth Station Press). He lives with his wonderful wife, Kelly, in St. Paul, Minnesota.