Hard Candy

Childhood. Sometimes it feels like a piece of hard candy I swallowed long ago, and that hard candy remains stuck in my throat. Most of the time I am unaware of its presence, but then something will shift and I will feel it in my chest, something stuck there like a rock or calcified lozenge, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Fixating on it. I want to cough it up and see that undigested bit of hard candy resting in my palm, right in the center of my palm, tangible evidence that it is finally out of me, or I want to reach down into my throat, way down in there, past all my words and defenses, and pull out the saliva-soaked hard candy, pinch it between my fingers, saying—There you are, you little bastard.

Childhood. Consolidated into a single edible metaphor, a harmless piece of candy you’d find in a glass dish at your grandmother’s.

When I close my eyes, I can see everything. And there is nowhere to go.

About John Biscello

Originally from Brooklyn, NY, writer, poet, spoken word performer, and playwright, John Biscello now lives in Taos, New Mexico. He is the author of three novels: Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale, Raking the Dust, and Nocturne Variations, and a collection of stories, Freeze Tag. His fiction and poetry has appeared in: Art Times, nthposition, The Wanderlust Review, Ophelia Street, Caper, Polyphony, Dilate, Militant Roger, Chokecherries, Farmhouse, BENT, The 555 Collective, Instigator, Brass Sopaipilla, The Iconoclast, Adobe Walls, Kansas City Voices, and the Tishman Review. His blog--Notes of an Urban Stray--can be read at johnbiscello.blogspot.com. Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale was named Underground Book Reviews 2014 Book of the Year.
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2 Responses to Hard Candy

  1. CCampbell says:

    Thank you for this…🤍

    Liked by 1 person

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