I love this
You have to understand, he tells her – while wearing that smile she hates so much…the one with no strings behind it, no artifice, just facial muscles coming to a mutually agreeable understanding – that the days I spent searching for your god in travel-worn liturgy and stained glass piety are gone. No more call-and-response. No more catch without release. So long, up there, and good luck with that smiting-of-the-wicked-thing. Really. Now she’s become terribly upset with him; her velvet plans and finely manicured theology no longer enough to bind him…like Isaac. He doesn’t mean to hurt her, he says – and now there’s nothing left, not even the smile. Just a door closing down the hall where her cross hangs…dusty and baroque around the edges. A window is opening for him. And she wants nothing more than to cast a stone through it. |
Comments 1 to 6 of 6
|
Comments 1 to 6 of 6
|