Pink Devils

by Tracy Davidson


Later, they said it was toxins in the salt water that sent the flamingos psychotic.

They went from docile to deadly in seconds. Half the missionary camp wiped out.

We fought with everything we could. Sister Mary strangled one with her rosary… then got shredded by two more. Beaks, sharp as scalpels, slashed, sliced and slurped through habits, hassocks and holy water.

Help came in the morning, with guns and dogs. Half-dead myself, still I lashed out with my crop, helping finish off the last pink devils. For my dead sisters.

Maybe some of that salt got to me too

Tracy Davidson

Tracy Davidson lives in Warwickshire, England, and writes poetry and flash fiction. Her work has appeared in various publications and anthologies, including: Poet’s Market, Mslexia, Atlas Poetica, Modern Haiku, The Binnacle, A Hundred Gourds, Shooter, Journey to Crone, The Great Gatsby Anthology, WAR, In Protest: 150 Poems for Human Rights.


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