Fiction Friday: Micropoetry from the Book

mormoni

With any other youth group,
the idea of dating a lot of different people
seemed like cheating,
but in Mormonism,
until one felt ready to marry,
it was better not to get fixated on any one person,
for that might lead to falling in love
& that just might lead to sin.

Tony had been willing to give up his reputation for Kath
but not Elder Roberts.
Tony had sealed his fate with his beloved by impregnating her,
whereas Elder Roberts had denied himself
by denying me.

It was a jubilee of sorts—
the tinkling of our fluted stems
signaling the beginning of the New Year
& the best years of our lives to come.

A cool gust, a warm breeze,
stirred me from my slumber
like a ghostly lover beckoning me.
I just stood back and watched him,
enjoying him,
& when he spoke to the sky,
it was then that I realized that he was speaking to the God
I thought he didn’t believe in.

I would never know if David lied to himself,
so he could lie to Mother,
but they would have a year before the temple
for her to fall in love with him
without all the trappings of Mormonism,
before she would expect him to take her to the temple
& promise things that he would never do,
not even for her,
even if she were me.

Fiction Friday: Micropoetry from the Book

mormoni

It was always chess over checkers with us,
Clue & Scrabble over Life & Monopoly,
& I could see how our game choices
showed me what our life was—
a puzzle.

In Religion, righteousness trumped kindness;
in Spirituality, kindness trumped righteousness.
But in the world, they were granted Equality.

I chose the Church as I would some day
have to choose a mate.
I grabbed hold of the attributes I loved,
tolerating the ones I did not.
But how perfect could the Church be,
being made up of many men?

I trusted David with my heart & life & body
as surely as I trusted God,
whoever He was,
with my soul.

She had prayed every night
that God would give Caitlin
as long as she needed on this Earth
to accept the truth.
I knew in my heart that Caitlin
would never accept the Church as true,
& so, if God answered such prayers,
Caitlin would live forever.

#Fiction Friday: #Novelines from the Book

mormoni

Burgundies, navy blues, & hunter greens had been replaced with shades of cream, ecru, & chartreuse. It was as if the royal richness that was David had been replaced with the plainness & blandess of Mother.

Modern art that looked like shards of broken glass & felled raindrops had been replaced with several of Greg Olsen’s paintings, & the place began to more resemble a Mormon temple than a museum.

Mother had put off the natural woman to put on the spiritual; in her eyes, the 2 entities could not co-exist, for one would always rule over the other.

The Church cautioned against forbidden fruit, yet they dangled it in front of me, tied up in the most attractive packaging.

I had never heard David thank God for anything before, save that night in the hospital, & I wondered, if, in his own way, he was changing, too.

The sky was pitch-black, the clouds that floated across it a grayish purple, sailing past as if I was in a time machine, watching the many moons go by. It was cool, but not cold, yet I felt a chill, a foreboding, as I approached the house.

The Schafer home reminded me of the Cleavers’ house in “Leave it to Beaver.” The hedges surrounding the front porch had all had a crew cut, whereas ours grew like wild ferns. Our home on Harrington Court made me think of an aging Southern belle.

Though the new elders were polite, they were distant, & weren’t the friends we had known in Elders Johnson & Roberts.

When Sister Corbin & Sister Kyle left the area, we received one piece of correspondence from each–a wedding invite & a postcard of a broken engagement. It was the last we had ever heard from them.

Elder Johnson still said hello to what he referred to as “the new Dalton family” 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 only hoped Elder Johnson would still think of us once he got back home.

Fiction Friday: Novelines from the Book

Mother said my testimony would become stronger every time I bore it, but was that not just because I would be convincing myself?

Mother would sometimes slip into the habit of speaking in old English, as that was how we were supposed to conduct ourselves in prayer.

Mormons loved fat-laden casseroles & water to drink at every function. It was thrift at both ends of the spectrum.

Funeral potatoes & lime-green Jell-O with shredded carrots no longer sounded strange to me. I was in their world, but not of it.

He went on & on about how wonderful his wife was, just as she went on & on how blessed she was to have a worthy priesthood holder in the home.

The Mormon garments had been the fabric that miracles were fabricated of, for they guarded one from fires, rape, & all manner of weaponry.

Sister Bear catching on fire seemed to appeal to more people than finding out Brother Schafer had once been a rake, & not of the gardening kind.

The bearing of testimonies was an exercise in mesmerism, cloaked in religious language, the brain lighting up in spiritual socialization.