Fiction Friday: Micropoetry from the Book

Conversion was an event for the Protestants,
a process for the Mormons,
but as for me,
it was an event that led to a process.

All the Nolan women had slender fingers—
fingers to play the piano & the strings of men’s hearts—
siren songs to keep them close.

Caitlin’s heart & soul lived in her childhood faith,
& would become her comfort,
even as the one I had never clung to
would become an anathema to me.

He said curves like mine were unfinished sculpture.
I was his clay, even as Mother was God’s stone
to chisel away until there was nothing left.

Diamonds went with white,
pearls, with black;
I saw Mother as the diamond—
I, the pearl,
& David as the man who adorned us

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