Mackenzie Davis

Joined August 2022

180 stories

Bio

“When you are describing a shape, or sound, or tint, don’t state the matter plainly, but put it in a hint. And learn to look at all things with a sort of mental squint.” Lewis Carroll

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Copyright Mackenzie Davis.

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Stories (180)

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The Slut Shame of a Hot Matcha Latte
Matcha, you so hot. You slap me with your naughty flavor, a blender mixture of horse hay and cow shit. And don’t get me started on your thiccc texture.
By Mackenzie Davis2 years ago in Poets
Bird's Song. Top Story - July 2023.
Fall is ours. Or, is it fall at dawn late heat and us in a lush red leaf? I think of you here red rocks on a lawn
By Mackenzie Davis3 years ago in Poets
No Trespassing
Who stands outside? His back is turned; I bet he stares out on my woods Out where branches pause by lullaby. He’ll stay there for a time or two
By Mackenzie Davis3 years ago in Poets
Identity Tumbles
It’s true I wanted to be authentic before my own name was mine. Say the word
By Mackenzie Davis3 years ago in Poets
Ultra Violet Augury
Of that purple light I was afraid. I crouched in the street, covered by shadows from a devilish star, weeping at the purity that was once my shoulders. White. I thought the parasols would illuminate the alleyways and passerby in variegated shades. I wanted to soak in those secrets. But they were white. I stood, burdened by their ironic diffuse.
By Mackenzie Davis3 years ago in Fiction
The Call
Sunday mornings spoke long and early, the blueblack cold imperceptibly thinned by the labor of his weekdays. Though the air
By Mackenzie Davis3 years ago in Poets
Reality Check
Say footsteps mean earthquakes. Say their aftershocks are triggers. Say the tsunamis are weeping tears Say they flood the world.
By Mackenzie Davis3 years ago in Poets
Bifurcate
It had been Agatha’s request: black on canvas, peeling. Beneath a partially dissolved top coat, black was reduced to an irregular shine. The underbelly peered out, and the absence there–Agatha craved it.
By Mackenzie Davis3 years ago in Fiction
Dancing in Sunbeams
You called them angels, but I felt their weight as an avalanche burying my last breath. They froze me in their coverings, and as I stood, I watched you dance between. We were unreachable to each other in that moment. Your words trilled in the alleyway, “It’s like church in the street!” and my groans of pain sunk below your energy. How could such suspension polarize us like this? You leapt every minute or so until you caught a handle and I hunched over the prodding cobblestones. It was the last moment I saw you before they caught you up.
By Mackenzie Davis3 years ago in Fiction
The Morning Taunt
It says, “you wasted life.” I see the new sun stretch below my bleariness; a meadow vole skips by, darting home to sleep.
By Mackenzie Davis3 years ago in Poets
A Void [of Plums]
A note lay on our dining room table. “The plums in the icebox — forgive me.” The light was dim through rain clouds and thick kitchen air. I asked myself how
By Mackenzie Davis3 years ago in Poets
I Wanted a Dog
The cat wouldn’t die. My daughter found him curled on a tree branch, staring down lazily. Already fully grown, sleek, one black sock, one white mitten.
By Mackenzie Davis3 years ago in Fiction