a sliver in the murk…


idaho well ablution

i went to the well and saw jesse
floating there

her eyes frozen on the concrete sky above

arms splayed at her side gently
lapping in the blackness

her eyes were stone gray

i went to the well to perform my ablutions
but jesse was floating there
she was cored

a sliver in the murk

i too feel hollow inside
a stitch of guilt

i went to the well and saw jesse
in an act of transcendence so absolute

so pure in that darkness
that i will not speak of it again

i went to the well
and will never return


“Sometimes it seems as though some puppet-player,
A clenched claw cupping a craggy chin
Sits just beyond the border of our seeing,
Twitching the strings with slow, sardonic grin.”

— Angelina Weld Grimke / “The Puppet-Player”

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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