#Fiction Friday: #Micropoetry from the Book

Mormoni

Mother was Odile,
I, Odette—
the two-headed swan
Sister Wiley sought to split.

Maxwell Manor was too big to be called a house,
too quiet to be called a home.
It was The Waiting Place,
where David resided,
unchanging.

A bitterness,
hard & brittle,
began to form,
hardening my heart.
Elder Roberts had made his choice—
a choice that hadn’t included me.

As surely as God had brought Elder Roberts & I together,
his Church had torn us asunder.
I’d kept every commandment,
but broken all the rules.

Like Father de Bricassart with his Meggie,
Elder Roberts would love his Church more than me,
& give to it
what it would take from me.

#Fiction Friday: #Micropoetry from the Book

mormoni

Like clusters of starlings or
synchronized swimmers,
the dark suits expanded & contracted—
floating in the humid,
airless atmosphere.

I found myself wanting not what I wanted,
but what I was supposed to want right then,
& wanting what, at that time,
was wrong for me to have.

We were here to do great work,
inspire someone else to,
or birth one who would.
Rarely, did one accomplish all 3,
but if we completed but one,
our life had purpose.

Mother had the dark beauty of Odile,
yet the pure heart of Odette.
She was like Irena in Cat People–
all the way till the dark overcame her.

As children,
Caitlin had always wanted to be the hider,
I, the seeker;
yet now, grown, I sought to hide from God,
even as she sought Him out.