​​H E R M E N E U T I C   C H A O S   J O U R N A L

N O   M A T T E R

Her body doubled over night. It multiplied and learned 
how to see more than itself and she wondered
how this multiplication occurred. Her body no longer 
a body, but a tomb around another. Still, her body held 
onto its new self the way a clay pot begins to form 
when spinning and molding with hands that look 
no longer yours, the new body forming under microscopic 
hands never asking for permission, it knows its business. So did 
the man when he forgot to pull out from her warmth,
keeping himself there for seconds too long, the pleasure
racking his bones or pricking a few holes in the lover’s plastic,
so she felt safe, safe for that moment, until she remembered
this man doesn’t know how to let go, walking around 
with deflated balloons, because what’s his is his 

Allyson Jeffredo is a writer from El Valle de Coachella. She is a recipient of The Loft Spoken Word Immersion Fellowship, which allows her to teach creative writing and art to students of the Inland Empire. Her chapbook, Songs After Memory Fractures, is to be released by Finishing Line Press. Her work can be found in The Cider Press Review, Slipstream Press, Literary Orphans, among others.

B Y   A L L Y S O N   J E F F R E D O