Fiction Friday: Micropoetry from the Book

mormoni

Known as “The new Dalton family,”
notarized by the marriage contract,
legitimized by the marriage vows,
& sanitized by not the rewriting of history
but the ignoring of it,
we lived as Mormons—
I, through deed,
David, through word,
& Mother, with her whole heart.
As for Caitlin,
she simply lived.

We still received news of Elder Johnson through the grapevine,
or the grapes of wrath known as the elders. 
Wariness had replaced openness with them,
at least towards us,
despite Mother & David’s morally married state. 
I held on to the memory of Elder Johnson,
for he had loved us then
before we had become us now.

Sister Schafer,
the quintessential administrative assistant,
had dispensed legal, medical, & real estate advice—
advising against divorce, birth control, & cohabitation,
& all without a license—
but who could question a woman
who was as close to God
as some were to their demons?

According to his mother,
Tony choosing to marry sooner than planned
rather than languish with lust had started a trend,
& would lead to less sin,
for he had followed the admonition of St. Paul.
After all, what was a bit of fooling around between him & his wife
before she had become his wife
if if prevented others from doing the same?

The acrid smell of burnt food hung in the air like barroom smoke. The haze seemed to soften the images—Ronald Reagan watching us enter the foyer, his eyes with that twinkle of merriment, almost as if he were laughing at us. David had always said that Reagan had been such a charismatic President because of his acting ability, though many of his University colleagues had debated whether the Old Gipper had ever had any acting ability.  

#Fiction Friday: #Micropoetry from the Book

Mormoni

I felt the Church had not been made for me,
but I had been made for it,
for I was virgin-pure.
I had saved myself,
rather than get saved.

I’d been a provincial girl,
begat by a tortured piano player,
groomed by a tortured soul
who loved the sound of the
piano player’s voice.

Marriage, in the Church,
was an inevitability,
children, a possibility.
My purity was prized,
my fertility,
in a way,
even more so,
for I could always
“go & sin no more,”
but if I was barren,
such a thing was up to God
or science to sort out.

Marital, procreative sex was considered beautiful;
sexual sin, second only to murder,
& I wondered if, in God’s courtroom,
adultery would be akin to manslaughter.

David had provided shelter to his lover
& her children,
shelter to those who had raised him,
though it would be I
who would shelter 2 of his children,
prematurely evicting one of them.