#Fiction Friday: #Micropoetry from the Book

mormoni

For she’d become the Grim Reaper,
the Angel of Death.
She was the devil in disguise,
beguiling in her beauty,
the ashes of which had tainted
everything.

For David would do my father’s work in the temple,
becoming Patrick’s savior by proxy.
My godlike David would giveth Patrick the key to heaven,
even as he taketh the key to my mother’s heart.

David was my guardian angel,
a mortal who had appointed himself
to watch over me,
to exemplify the love Christ had for His children,
to shield from me the lack of maternal love.

The Mormon temple was tainted now,
for blood poured from its doors—
the lifeblood from the man who had sired me.
It seeped into every piece of fabric,
splattered on every wall
like a crime scene
that could never be washed away.

David had sinned in the name of my mother,
& so I turned Mother into a Christ of convenience,
placing his sins on her,
so that he stood blameless before me.

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