Emma Corinne Weiss

 
Down in the neighborhood by the bean-shaped pool that’s painted in blue plastic aqua, Graciela lives elegantly, shaping the neighborhood to her specifications; and daily, when the four-winged house practices how to settle, she moves quietly, listening for the notions that speak and tell her that someday the circumference of the dress she wears will lose her shape and find another body to stick to; because it’s always too hot and the pool is too warm to entertain guests as the cul-de-sac lies empty for the duration of the day; so she wanders through the time it takes to get from 6 o’clock to 6 o’clock again, before it becomes something beyond bearing; until she turns on the tap in the bathroom and the hose attached at the side of the house and sets to listening for the water to flow through the pipes against her loud walls, rushing from the central water tower fifty yards away; and she begins to flood the drought-rattled grass and she overflows the pool, and makes more ice cubes than she needs to; she delivers her legs curled into cannonballs directly to the pool’s blue surface as she puts herself in charge of deserting the desert of its water; while no one is watching, her dress loses her shape; slips onto the surface of the pool, and keeps on swimming.

We are both artists and friends who share a collaborative friendship through our art. Our work with each other pushes us to create poetry, fiction, essay, photography and film. This single-sentence flash fiction piece is based on a photograph by Ruben taken over San Diego California. The piece explores the theme of desertification and the human will to change the landscape as seen from a plane’s eye view.