Two Micro Fictions
by Trish Hopkinson
Expectancy
It’s a bluebird day—finally, after weeks of heavy sky, smoke from the fires on the coast, then welcome early fall rain. I watch as you fuss with the sprinklers, using a compressor to clear the lines, just in time for the first freeze. I tell you, there’s no way I could take care of the house if you were gone. I tell you, but then again, you don’t know how to access our bank account. We laugh a little, but there’s dread there too. It’s likely one of us will go first—I’m four years older, but the average life expectancy of a man is 76, a woman 81. The math is not in my favor, or is it? Leaving you to mourn or mourning you, both options leave a sour taste in my mouth—like expired milk before its poured into the drain. Neither of us believe in heaven—mythical pearled gates guarded by winged things. We cling to the earth as if this life is our last, dig our heels into black vineyard mud, revel in the fresh decay of gold and crimson leaves before they turn to rot.
I Am Meg White
I am Meg White’s pinky finger. I am her black dip drumsticks leaning in the corner, kit sitting quiet. Her red-and-white hangs wrinkled in my prefrontal cortex. The stage where she last stood is my hippocampus, empty but for Jack’s shadow. I am Meg’s silhouette. I am the ghostly thump of her bass, the silent chime of her ride cymbal. Her drum key hangs ’round my neck like an ex-lover’s engagement ring. Her last name hovers in a speech bubble over Jack’s head. Her first name hovers in a speech bubble over my head. Meg, I say. Meg. Her voice makes no sound. She is missing from the comic strip. Stripped from the stage, from the pages like a hero foiled. Meg’s last appearance was just not appearing. She sat quiet while Jack called it off.
Trish Hopkinson is a poet and advocate for the literary arts. You can find her online at SelfishPoet.com and in western Colorado where she runs the regional poetry group Rock Canyon Poets and is a board member of the International Women’s Writing Guild. Her poetry has been published in Sugar House Review, TAB: The Journal of Poetry & Poetics, and The Penn Review; and her most recent book A Godless Ascends is forthcoming from Lithic Press in March 2024. Hopkinson happily answers to labels such as atheist, feminist, and empty nester; and enjoys traveling, live music, and craft beer.
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What surprising, fascinating stuff can you tell us about the origin, drafting, and/or final version of these two pieces? “Expectancy” is a true story. My husband and I have been happily married for 26 years and I attribute our success to how we divide responsibilities. This also means we are pretty dependent on the talents of each other! “I Am Meg White” is inspired by the band The White Stripes. I’ve always been a huge fan of their music, but never was able to see them perform live. I had tickets once, but they canceled the show due to Meg suffering from acute anxiety. I have always admired her and just sort of felt like she deserved more of the lime light. I’m still a Jack White fan, but I’m a feminist first. I wish Meg the best for whatever she is up to now.
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Matter Press recently released titles from Meg Boscov, Abby Frucht, Robert McBrearty, Tori Bond, Kathy Fish, and Christopher Allen. Click here.
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Submissions
Poetry, creative nonfiction, and fiction/prose poetry submissions are now closed. The reading period for standard submissions opens again March 15, 2025. Submit here.
Upcoming
01/13 • Edward Thomas-Herrera
01/20 • Zero Laforga
01/27 • Jack Bedell
02/03 • TBD
02/10 • Gaurav Bhalla
02/17 • Callie Dean
02/24 • TBD