Angel Zapata

Tonight, Halloween 2011, debuts Angel Zapata and his dark, scary works of art.

By Angel Zapata

Dan tells me about his baby,
a miracle caught between tied tubes;
says he wants a boy.
This is before the bleeding,
his girlfriend with a wet arm raised,
two lives stained on toilet tile.
Shouldn’t be possible, he says,
maybe a girl would be fine.
His girlfriend collapses in cramps.
The doctor makes a fist,
It’s death, he says, for one or both.
She feels sick, throws a fit.
Mother, father, child divide,
pull apart like taffy;
something sweet to recollect the taste.
Dan puts his hand
on the shape of her dying world
and feels it kick.

By Angel Zapata

The punch-in clock
should be a kick—
a foot, not hands
—toes like broken bolts.
Take the constant
clamor of machinery,
pneumatic tools and chains
like barking vertebrae.
Delete the sound,
reduce to silent stains:
grease, diesel, oil, blood;
abstract shirts to frame.
Twenty years all the same:
one lunch, two breaks;
the body aches—
worn pants, torn boot lace.
The end of shift’s too late;
engines sputter, shake;
exhausted pipes
spit black flakes.
All shifts are done
the bells exclaim, refrain;
a final time card stamped
at close of day.
On the car ride home
sunrays fade into snakes,
birth Medusa gravestones,
end labor pain.

By Angel Zapata

The young girl crosses out the letter ‘e’ and creates a den. Her ink pen moves again and the letter ‘a’ plummets away from dam.

We are all creators, she thinks to herself.

“I don’t care,” her father snaps, “you won’t be keeping that baby inside you.”

She wishes she were anybody other than herself. She writes ‘other’ on a clean piece of paper, and then slowly adds an ‘m’ to the front of the word.

I Don’t Care if We Ever Do Laundry Again
By Angel Zapata

Ignore the socks lost to dryers.

Now I understand what you were saying. The man with one foot puts forth half the effort to keep his toes warm. I failed at using poems, scrawled on feminine pads, as fabric softener sheets. I titled one “Dissolve,” and another, “Prosthetic.”

Breaking up pairs is easy.

When I think of you, you’re always unbalanced, one foot bare.

Angel Zapata is author of the horror short story collection, The Man of Shadows. He also edits 5×5 Fiction: 25-word stories told in 5 sentences of 5 words each. Visit and


About vision791

Pushcart nominee Jeanette Cheezum has been published on several online writing sites and in fifteen Anthology books and four poetry books. Three of these books have made the New York Times Best Sellers list. Awarded The Helium Networks Premium Writer’s Badge, Bronze Creative Writing Award and a Marketplace Writers award. Recently she has published fourteen ebooks at Barnes and Noble and Amazon. You may find a list of some of her work at
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5 Responses to Angel Zapata

  1. Damn strong writing!

  2. Whoa, these are teeth-clenching bites of beauty! “Taffy” and “Other” – excuse me for saying – knocked both my socks off, and I loved how the title of “I Don’t Care if We Ever Do Laundry Again” reflected the message. I also thought “Labor” was a great depiction of life’s demands and inevitable responsibilities/consequences: blood, sweat, and tears – repeat.
    Excellent work, Angel.

  3. Excellent – loved each of these although TAFFY is one of those pieces that is haunting and bound to linger long after I’ve stopped reading. Really strong writing Angel. Well done!

  4. Sheila Deeth says:

    Wow! These are great. Taffy especially

  5. vision791 says:

    Angel, this has been a pleasure to have you here this week.

Comments are closed.