from a year-end meeting

fisheye.jpg

Then the day came when I no longer
wondered why the disciples shook
the dust from their feet where the
welcome wasn’t. It didn’t matter

that a dim bulb was flickering in
the dean’s office, or that some wet
words dribbled, viscous, from the
down-turned corner of the pulpit, or

that the sentiments unraveled like
a roll of toilet paper. It wasn’t just
about the goggly eyes ogling inside
the fishbowl, suspended over a bubble

mouthing “wow” and “we’ll take that
into consideration” and “our thoughts
and prayers are with you.” It wasn’t
just about the vacuum sucking the truth

out of the room, or the flaccid plat-
itudes staining the once clear silence.
The image had previously played for
me as a disdainful “shake it off” with

a sandal twerk. Now it just seems
as though Sodom and Gomorrah are
crumbling to powder, and the flee-
ing remnant isn’t looking back.

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