Fiction Friday: Micropoetry from the Book

Earth was like versions of the afterlife—
Heaven & Hell coexisting,
with Purgatory the mortar in the cracks,
holding it all together.

Soft-spoken with conviction.
Jesus, as I imagined him to be;
David, as I knew him to be.
One claimed to be God,
the other, to me, simply was.

I shared not my mother’s belief, but her love—
not the love that dwelt inside her,
but the noun that was in the glorious form of a man.

I worked alongside him in the kitchen,
I helped grade his papers,
I posed for his paintings—
I was his constant companion.

He spoke of sin like an atheist,
salvation, like a minister.
He saw food as carnal,
sex as spiritual.
The day he devoured me,
I became both.

Logline for Because of Mindy Wiley An Irish-Catholic girl coming of age in the Deep South during the New Millennium finds her family splintered when two Mormon missionaries come to her door, their presence and promise unearthing long-buried family secrets, which lead to her excommunication and exile.

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