From The Vantage Point of Ten, It All Might Be Possible by Elana Lavine
That desperate summer I have the ten-year-old girl campers, fifth grade now behind them like sheathed knives in their belts. What was that picture on your phone? they ask.
That desperate summer I have the ten-year-old girl campers, fifth grade now behind them like sheathed knives in their belts. What was that picture on your phone? they ask.
Mum dropped a chunk into her mouth; eyes rolled back like when she eats Milk Tray.
Queued for my sentencing, I reflected, like catechism taught us. The forgiven fingered their beads, tallying grace like dues. Stained glass flared—Moses, alight with judgment, mid-swing. Had I broken one? More?
1. Cloud Cover
“You’re pretty cumulus,” said my boyfriend, the meteorologist, and I asked if he meant I was heavenly.
The hospital never sleeps. Even in darkness, light from the corridor slips under my door like floodwater. Footsteps squeak along vinyl floors.