The Oil Well Let the bull wheel wind around my legs and thighs further tightening the loveless line. Derrick-poised, arid figure of luck and charm, I grew scales and wide-eyes. For love of country, progress, mankind. Bringing calm to elements enraged, no man knew me to be anything other than wooden, flesh-coloured, sacred and divine. Decades-bound by the corroding drilling line, I could’ve gone on like this forever. Perfect skin now burnt and dry from desert winds, solitude and time. Steel cable fraying scales turning delicate toes into five bent, rusted nails. It was then, I felt your talons bound by the same pulling line. In our self-imposed restraint, we wrapped the cable tight around us For once, not working against the wheel. Rebeca Ladrón de Guevara Rebeca Ladrón de Guevara lives in Los Angeles, California. She received an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from Chapman University. Her fiction has previously appeared in Chicago Literati, Genre, Sonora Review and Badlands Literary Journal. In 2008, she was the recipient of the Elizabeth George Foundation grant for emerging writers. Dillon H Fuller is a musician and photographer. He lives in Santa Ana, California.
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September 2024
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