I stand at the kitchen sink washing the one thing I took from home after you died: The Madonna and Child statue I meditated on kneeling before you ? being beaten, traumatized, loving you, year after year.
I wash it gently, remembering the time you unknowingly soaked a statue of St. Joseph ? carved out of salt ?in a sink of warm water.
You did not realize it would dissolve, desert you like your man-made religion. Only to return later, pushing your hands through the milky-white water, confused, almost frantic, as you thrashed about in search of what you had laid there.
###
Keith Hoerner is a recent MFA-in-Writing Graduate who is enjoying a foray into teaching after a successful sales and marketing career. A St. Louisan, his recent work can be read in Mid Rivers Review and Untamed Ink.
