Fiction Friday: Micropoetry from the Book

Because Patrick was not,
David was,
& because I loved what David was,
I wondered if that made me a murderer
in my heart.

I was the result not of 2 people
who fell in love in passionate spontaneity,
but of 2 who were foreordained
to “take one another to spouse.”

When my father had passed away,
Mother’s faith had passed away,
& I had been brought up to go my own way.

I saw Elder Johnson as a brother,
Elder Roberts as a beloved–
as spoken in the Song of Solomon–
but the Sisters as anything but.

She had the body of a retired ballerina,
a toothpaste-commercial smile,
& an All-American youthfulness
that made her competition for me.

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