Jesus Paints His Eggs Red
by Talia Rizzo
On Easter, a gay man from Berlin comes to play the xylophone red and purple keys scattered across the carpet. A science room skeleton sitting beside him plastic bones draped around his fingers a fleck of red paint on ribs. Someone pierces my ear with a sterilized needle and an apple slice. The juice drips down the nape of my neck. I ask a girl if she’ll lick it off. A dog whines. She says, that shit was sour. Blood eclipsing my left lobe. In the corner, there is a canvas with the oil lines of a man who is my father but not my father. The easter bunny hides in the closet, too busy cracking open the eggs.
About the Author
Originally from the Bay Area, Talia Rizzo is a queer poet studying creative writing at the University of Denver. Her work has appeared in Levee Magazine and Foothills. Talia’s work is focused around her experiences as a lesbian and woman, as well as family separation and addiction. Talia enjoys Italian food, spending long days in the Rocky Mountains, and writing on the porch of Stella’s Coffee shop. Find Talia on instagram here!