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NIC ALEA

Phase: I


                Did I lie about the boy tied to the 

garden shed? Arms stretched out like he was the 

flat line of a highway or the son of god, or did I lie 

when I said he was covered in wasps but did not 

die and this confused me because he bared no 

welts and the sun never beat him down like a tired 

horse, he just was, 

         as solid as the shed or the wall that 

bordered the yard, he was a border, crossing in 

rubber boots, wiped his sweat onto the back of my 

shirt and called that art, said it was a metaphor––

for art.



196  The Paris-American

Picture
Nic Alea is a poet and fiction writer from California with BA in Creative Writing. She holds a fellowship from the Lambda Literary foundation, was a semi-finalist for Button Poetry’s chapbook competition for “Sad Boy Slumber Party,” and was voted one of SF Weekly’s 2014 “Best Writers without a Book.” Nic has performed at the National Queer Arts Festival and has work featured in journals such as Muzzle Magazine, The Legendary, Rattle, and Write Bloody. She currently lives and writes in Melbourne, Australia.


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