Minus 16, Ohad Naharin or Written in the Back of a Liquor Store (Version A)

December 15, 2012
Custom User Avatar
More by this author
I would have been greeted with
laughter, condolences;
somersaults. Still, she
wasn’t gone
until the
pedestrian coiled church.

Inside, the stairs were
slow. Molly’s hand was a
grenade. I saw the face
surrounded by flowers. And it was
real. And the tears

A casket of
quiet; a pink
leopard print shirt. It was her
there--deep under that; placid,

we breathed down
uncertainty. And
failed to continue on.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback