On the Taxonomical Classification of Dollar General as a Keystone Species* by Briar Hyssop

I fly amongst swarms of
black and yellow lines between
bent-necked trees and church parking lots

Two-minutes down the road from
wispy pitchers of nectar in
my backyard

Obscene horsepower galloping
along the paved graves of
sister plants and pastures

Racing against time to find
my industrial queen’s
honey

Liquid gold melted into
apiaries of poorly perfumed
torches and off-brand candies

Convenience is
an invasive species

and by god she’s killing
the world around me

 but if I have to drive the
extra ten minutes into
town

I’ll kill myself

So please, Queen Convenience,
obliterate the hills the tornado
couldn’t flatten

Emasculate the hardened trunk of
every last tree standing
in your way

And use your roots to penetrate
ancient burial grounds of
forests and flowers

So that I can chug 20oz
of cancer in a bottle
20 minutes faster

Artist’s Statement

After a nephew's basketball game, I found myself in the parking lot of my local Dollar General. I sipped on an RC and lamented the convenience invasion in my neck of the very rural woods--and my support of it. What if the very asphalt where I sat had been turned into a park? What if we build a basketball court? My nephew could practice more? Shouldacouldawoulda. At least I could buy a nice consolation prize at the Dollar General.

Briar Hyssop writes tales of horror and science fiction—and sometimes thought-provoking essays about how the fit of their overalls—from a sunny patch of Kentucky bluegrass. Briar’s work has been featured in Chill Mag and Monstrous Femme, and they were a finalist in the 2024 Kentucky Visions Short Story Contest. They are an MFA candidate in Emerson’s Popular Fiction and Publishing Program.