Dead Sprint by Evan Nicholls

The skeleton crossed the finish line and was halved at the waist. Exploded by a ribbon. Then the announcer cued a procession of rats to haul the bones away. “They hope to add body to the broth,” the announcer remarked. We handed each rat a water cup. The last, wearing the skull, we bathed in Gatorade.


Evan Nicholls is a poet and collage artist from Virginia. His chapbook of poems and collages, Holy Smokes, is available from Ghost City Press. Find more of his work at