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A Small Problem That Mushroomed
Briony Gylgayton (Iowa Writers Workshop, USA)

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I played a game in which you toss a plastic ring onto a bottle neck. The first time I played it I won a goldfish in a thin plastic bag, which died within a day. I poured the water and floating bloated fish into a mason jar and placed it on a shelf.

          Spiraling lights,
          sharp neon buzzing
          like clinquant insects along the rocking
          metal splinters of rollercoasters,
          gyrating wide Ferris wheels
          spinning through the damp night
          the toothpick thin machines rattled
          not slicing through the air but crashing into it.

The next day I won eight more goldfish, which all died before the whirling sounds rang out of my head. The water from before had taken on the color of the goldfish, and did so even more when I poured in the next eight.

                    … lights,
                    sharp … buzzing
                    … … … along the rocking
                    metal … of rollercoasters,
                    … wide Ferris wheels
                    spinning through the … night
                    the toothpick … machines rattled
                    not slicing … … … but crashing … …

On the last day before the carnival left, I won thirty-four goldfish, which all died before I was halfway between the gates and my home. I had over a dozen jars by this point, all tightly containing my prizes.

                              … lights,
                              … … …
                              … … … along the …
                              … … … rollercoasters,
                              … … Ferris wheels
                              … through the … night
                              the … … machines …
                              not … … … … but … … …

The goldfish have dissolved into a gluey layer that streaks the insides of the jars.
The food
the handfuls of
candy cotton and taffy and nuts and roasted ears of corn and slushy lemonade and kettle corn and pickles and caramel apples and lollipops and gumballs and pretzels and flavored ice and hot dogs thick with mustard and dripping chili dogs and slick corn dogs
          are growing freckles of mildew.

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Briony Gylgayton is working on her MFA in Poetry at the Iowa Writers Workshop. Her Creative Writing Honors Thesis, a manuscript of poetry about psychological disorders of the DSM-IV, was awarded the Elliot Gilbert Memorial Prize. Her current poetry explores the connections between American folktales and survival-horror video games.

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