Rooftop Poetry Club - Kim Chinquee

Kim Chinquee

Bio:
Kim Chinquee's collection of flash fiction, OH BABY, was published by Ravenna Press, and her collection of prose poems, BIG CAGES, is forthcoming with White Pine Press. Over 200 of her pieces have appeared in journals including Noon, Denver Quarterly, Conjunctions, Notre Dame Review, Mississippi Review, elimae, New Orleans Review, Willow Springs, Fiction, Fiction International, Quick Fiction, Redivider, and Wisconsin Academy Review, The South Carolina, New York Tyrant, and others. She received a Henfield Prize and a Pushcart Prize and she teaches creative writing.

Flash Fiction:

Simulation

A man doctored me up, cutting open my pant leg, making up an ugly wound with clay and food color. He put a tag on me, tying it to my boot, dumped me in the bushes. Now I was an airman and this was my role. Another man came and read my tag, picked me up and put me on his shoulders. He was a reservist. I could feel his boot hit the ground, like a horse. Someone yelled and the man got down and dumped me. He fell on me. Said we had to stay there. I felt like a kid again.

Previously appeared in Noon, 2008

Clean Cut

One had known me forever. The other was new, clean-cut, plaid cotton. The old one had dark hair and T-shirts. I chose the new one. I don’t know why. I had some papers making me important. They wanted me for my papers. I felt sorry for the old one, his dripping head. I drifted back. Then the new one gave me money. I needed relief. I had nothing of my own besides those papers. The old one wanted to talk. We rode in his polka-dotted car. He said please marry me, and I said I’m with the other. He had a gun. It wasn’t my fault. The bullet went through his arm. I went back to the new one, pure as a newborn. The old one said sorry for that bullet, and could he cut my hair. I was getting ready for a great night with the new one. I looked at myself. He, the old one, had shaved a side of my head, and left a clean cut. He pointed to his head, and he said, “See?” He had something just like it. I remembered he’d always had that. I don’t know why.

Previously appeared in Noon, 2006

Cape

I landed in a church lot, where a bunch of people sat around, celebrating the institute of flying. I sat with them. We watched the air. My uncle Wally soared like Superman. He was my favorite uncle. He was fast, but in real life he was kind and gentle. He came so close to hitting objects.

Previously appeared in Noon, 2007