prickles & shards

my skin is covered in more prickles

than you can count on a cactus

and a tougher shell than the coconut,

the one your hammer could never splinter.

 

but my insides are a sort of hollowness,

compartments of air separated by a fractal

fashioned from blown glass,

the etched orbs on trees at christmas,

or lightning struck sand.

 

when you hurl my shape at the ground

my outsides don’t show a scratch

or a dent from first impressions of the pavement.

 

but the concavity within is filled

piles of shattered shards

sharp on the edges and

swept neatly to the sides.

Pray For Me

“You’re quiet, Anne, I can tell that something’s nagging at you.” Omar gazed at her unblinking. “What’s wrong? How can I pray for you?”

Anne shook her head and tried to see where the rest of their friends had got off to. They were buying Gobstoppers.

“Come on, Anne. God’s laying you on my heart right now. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know if I can explain it.”

“Do you want to try?”

“Not really.”

Omar shook his head.

“Would you pray for me though?” she asked.

“Of course.” He followed her out of the Cineplex, into the dark parking lot.

My Body Can Handle It (The Shit)

I dropped a tortilla chip. Two bits cracked off when it struck the sidewalk.

As I reached down for it, a man behind me said, “You going to eat that chip?”

“Huh?” I said, looking from the yellow chip to him. “Why not?”

“You know what’s happened on that sidewalk? All the shit spilled on there? Oil, gas, poison, gum, chemicals. I wouldn’t put none of it in my mouth.”

I shrugged. “If it’s on the sidewalk, then it’s in the air too. My body’s been getting shit my whole life, and I’m fine. Hate to waste a good chip.”