A Fragment


My friend sent me these lines she found on a notecard stuck in a book I'd borrowed ages ago. I barely remember writing them but they seem important now. Something about St. Christopher...

    Imagine that impossible weight, the muck
    of the river's bed sucking at my feet,
    every step grudged. Infant in arm.
    What was he doing so far from home?
    Grace was lighter.

Comments

Popular Posts