by Amanda McLeod Dead jellyfish float transparent in the void below my rib cage, invisible echoes of unforgotten pain. Ghostly tentacles, trailing translucent threads of agony against my lungs, my heart, drinking my oxygen, taking up space left for breathing, diaphanous, penetrating. I wrap myself in this cellophane, unseen suffocation, extra gloss doesn’t hide suffering but shows no cause. Amanda Read More