Mackenzie Davis
Bio
“When you are describing a shape, or sound, or tint, don’t state the matter plainly, but put it in a hint. And learn to look at all things with a sort of mental squint.” Lewis Carroll
Find me elsewhere.
Copyright Mackenzie Davis.
Stories (120/0)
- Top Story - June 2023
The Night of White UmbrellasTop Story - June 2023
This street often speaks. On the night of the white umbrellas, many voices made their way to me. But I did not listen, for their shadows swallowed them before I could. Street lamps became my saving grace. And I watched the voices. I never stopped until the dawn came and I could see them no more.
By Mackenzie Davis12 months ago in Fiction
- Runner-Up in Father's Footprint Challenge
Grapefruit as Fatherly LoveRunner-Up in Father's Footprint Challenge
They take work. I’m standing behind the counter where my father peels a white grapefruit. He sections them according to their lines and continues to peel until they are no longer enveloped in the transparent casings and white ribbon. This debris he collects into a pile beside the cutting board.
By Mackenzie Davis12 months ago in Men
I am watching you stake out the art thief
Beside the mirror hangs The Penitent Magdalene painted by Jusepe De Ribera. If you knew about art—which you don’t—you’d wonder if that was true. Instead, your eyes are drawn to the corner of a dim sunset that makes up a small portion of the painting. Mary glows in the light of a miraculous sun.
By Mackenzie Davis12 months ago in Art
Sarah's Mother
Content warning: The following story contains a detailed description of a corpse. The worm inside my brain is tidal to a certain moon. No sun to fry it, no day to drown the night’s creature. Was there ever a ‘day’ and ‘night?’ My waking dreams have abandoned me to a purposeless clock, an infinite dark.
By Mackenzie Davis12 months ago in Fiction
Chronicling Consciousness From the Bottom of Green Mountain
I sit on a white bench wondering could I see this mountain if the grass didn’t move? Without motion, I am blind (I ask why of movement and receive stillness in reply, perceiving my voice to hold no echo.)
By Mackenzie Davisabout a year ago in Poets