Bottom Feeders by Emily Page
Pushing open the door, he heard them.
as the flashlight crossed over a fluffy pink rug
the scent of voodoo lilies and salt water
hung like stale cheese in the air vent.
And there
scratching at the plastic rivets in the tub
pecking at the bloated, goose-skin blue body
of a small boy submerged under water
were crabs.
Their eyes
like burnt matches,
and held between their feathery lips
was flesh.
They crawled across the boys skin
that blossomed with ruptured blood vessels,
like thin purple string under a bubbly wax casing.
He backed away from the tub
bumping against a sticky counter
feeling for the light switch.
The room ignited with color
and he saw a counter covered
in rainbow cream and six candles.
The figures of blue moved into the room
pressing him further against the sink
he saw the book of Mormon
nailed above the door
and felt there was no religion
left in the walls.