by Jeffrey Zable
,  Dale Cinski
"You've been absolved of all sins!" a voice said,
but given that I've never believed in God or the version of original sin
I said out loud, "I don't understand why sadness enters the mind
and rises like dough until it explodes into a beautiful woman
who says she's ready but when you get there she's turned into a hag
with metal teeth that rip into your flesh and leave you
bleeding like a pig that minutes earlier was rolling in mud."
And then I awakened feeling sad that I couldn't sleep it off
until my heart stopped or until someone came in the night
and put their hands around my throat thinking I was the one
who stole their money and gave it to the Campfire Girls,
several who grew up to became high priced call girls
or nuns at the bottom of the sea. . .
Jeffrey Zable is a teacher and conga drummer in the San Francisco Bay Area. His writing has appeared in hundreds of literary magazines and anthologies. In 2017 he was nominated for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize. He appeared previously in Chrome Bairns 27 and 47.