no time to horse around, 2024.
Acrylic on canvas. Purchase

—

Art by Marie Magnetic
Prose by Jasmine Rodriguez

—

Trimming the Work/Horse

“Apa, can you please sign my permission slip for a field trip? I’m going to the museum.”
His daughter’s note reads.

In the morning, his daughter finds two Abraham Lincoln bills neatly placed on the center of the kitchen table with her signed permission slip.

Underneath her note, her father writes: “Hija, enjoy seeing the dinosaurs.”

Miles away from her home, traffic has started. In his winter rusting car, the expired air freshener swings as the president’s voice booms over the speakers, “Today we face two issues of vital importance for all Americans: growing our economy and protecting our citizens from those who wish to do us harm.”

His work was outside the edge of the city, outside of la migra’s reach. Armed with his lunch and heavily layered with sweaters for his trabajo, he changes in the locker. His silver hair shines underneath the hairnet. His inflamed hands sharpen his knives on the wet stone, cruising its belly over the coarse grit, and finishing the blades over the fine grit. He slips on the cold stainless steel sleeve to protect his arm from the sharpness of his knives. He ties his heavy metal scabbard around his waist with cold chain links. His sheath holding all his trimming knives and his boning hook.

In the raw freezer, his hermanos y hermanas in blue and white form their lines moving together – pulling the dead “mooing” carcass to butcher, the living divides the nine hours of work. A body working on the flesh of another. They cut and cut, laying an assembly of sirloins, briskets, t-bones, porterhouses, rump roast, and cubes of short ribs.

Their frozen jointpain. His frozen jointpain.
Their wet hairnets. His wet hairnet.
Feverish.
Their shirts stick to their chest. Their denim jean hardens in the cold.
His wet shirt sticks to his chest. His denim jeans harden by the cold.
Tense.
Their bodies heat and sweat the repeating motion.
His body heats and sweats the repeating motion.
Heavy.

Digging, slicing, carving. Cavar, cortar, tallar. Digging, slicing, carving. For hours.

Swinging their metal hooks into the ribs of the vaca. They drag it towards their station. Their hands work with the knives into the flesh. Sharpening the steel for the flesh. His hermanos y hermanas in blue, red, and white leave their lines together – the living mixing together with the dead.

His red ears, runny nose, and swollen fingers defrost on the car ride home. His shirt dries from the heater. His new denim jeans are encrusted with meat trimming stains. Slowly, his body thaws out in two hours. At home, his layers are on the shower floor. Shell-less, he removes the stains from his body and the smell of la sangre y el sudor.

He finds a bone curving into a hook on the cocina table.

“Apa, I got this necklace. It’s a velociraptor claw.”
His daughter’s note reads.

He sleeps on his cama dreaming of their black hooks swinging into each other ribs. They drag themselves on the cold metallic tables. Their bodies feed the line to the President’s Bush address, “As we take the steps necessary to achieve these goals, we will make our future one of peace and prosperity.”

—

Jasmine Rodriguez (She/Her) is majoring in English Northeastern Illinois University (NEIU). She works at the Student Media Board as treasurer, managing editor for the Independent and Que Ondee Sola (QOS), copyeditor for the Independent and QOS, and hybrid editor for La Mosca Literary and Artistic Journal. During her weekend, she writes and dedicates time with her family and friends.

Marie Magnetic is a Chicago-based visual artist working mainly in acrylics, collage, and found object sculpture. Marie was awarded a Bachelor of Science in Psychology from Central Michigan University in 2017. She originally worked in positions with child services, state government, and several library roles before returning to art during the COVID-19 pandemic.

In 2023, Marie held her first solo exhibit at Little Broken Things in Chicago. Marie has received grants from Foundation House, The Haven Foundation, and the New York Foundation for the Arts. Additionally, her work has been published in Haus-a-Rest, HNDL Mag, and Modern Renaissance Magazine. Marie is dedicated to exploring culture and the multi-faceted realm of humanity through her art.

—

1000 Words | Home Not Home Artists + Writers

Noa Alemán + Tamar Brooks • Jacqueline Almaguer + Alanis Castillo Caref • Lexi Alvarado + Isabela Ortega • Danielle Arend + Janina Gatilao • Sofia Brunwin + Spencer Hutchinson • Andrea Cole + Rocio Franco • Lydia Collins + Tarnynon Onumonu • Gregory Diaz + Irvin Ibarra • Danielle Dykerhouse + Betsy Van Die • Jonathan Espinoza + ben-aki • Jaymes Fedor + Maria Requena • Samantha Franco + Angeles Rangel • Ines Gardea + Angelica Davila • Frank Geiser + Penny Mann • Evelyn Hernandez + Valeria Osornio • Stephanie Hererra + Neha Chawla • Ivana Jarmon + Theo Sullivan • Vivian Jones + Luz Silva • Lewis Lain + Thulasi Seshan • Cesar Luna + benedicta m badia • Marie Magnetic + Jasmine Rodriguez • Delisha Mckinney + Paloma Velasco • Diana Noh + Juj-Lepe • Andrew Rehs + Corbett Berger • Clau Rocha + Maria Jose Ramos Villagra • Amyia Ross Brittanii Batts (Tanae b) • Fawaz Sakaw + Arianna Maggio • Lucero Sanchez + Clay-Cofre • Ramin Takloo-Bighash + Yiwen-Lyu • TEEL ONE + Melody Contreras • Pamela Trejo + Kim Yeoh • Cindy Uriostegui + Scum Drop • Ami Vasilopoulos + Stephanie Cruz Rincon • Ivy Waegel + Aryn Hills • Emily Schroeder Willis + Angelica Flores • Raine Yung + Micaela Petkus