Holy Apostles Soup Kitchen


In Uncategorized on September 18, 2015 at 5:20 pm


Shards scattered;                                                                                                                                                    More densely clustered about the epicenter, but even those far flung gems glisten wet. I hesitate to add more of my own spattering to the scene, as one half-shredded sneaker now streaked, lay askew several feet from its partner, which remains with me. That distant one, bloodied with the memento it has snatched. Sudden realization of my second loss fills me with grief. My chest expands to aching that will not be released lest some actual puncturing be performed. A pin to my lung? A tar-top cardioectomy? Only some such wrenching could take my mind off what I know lays at the horizon of my sight. It was only this same drizzle, now pattering my face that helped to turn autumn leaves to pulp beneath the bus wheels. Slick pulp that brought the mammoth down, and left him battered on his side. Only now do I smell the pungent yet intoxicating odor of grilled meat, while unburned diesel wafts its own heady fragrance. The fumes force me to crane my neck, and point my eyes to that dreaded horizon. The searing smell and enveloping heat reach me at just that instant as I watch her already lifeless form, flopped through the window, become engulfed. I allow the rubber-band to break, as my head hangs heavily, and my eyes now gaze upon kaleidoscope flickers in the shards.

-Stephanie Lawel


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