[ traj-i-dee ]
“Without bread, there is no more life.”
The bread on the table sits untouched. Rain laps against windowpanes, tse tse tse, flirtatious at first, then frenzied. Off in the distance, juggernauts of lightning flash. Thunder rolls across hillsides before folding back into itself. She drops to her knees, breathless, like a clogged heart longing for subsistence. They say when you are ready, you can sense God’s Presence. In this desolate night, he is still offstage. Memories. The flicker of candles drowning in wax. A daughter in the arms of a priest, weeping as he dampens her curls with holy water. The joy of believing she would be saved. I love you. I’m sorry. Please, forgive me. Not knowing how to save herself. Now, daughter, like Jesus is missing, presumed dead & there is nothing left to this story but the tremolo of rain & a hunger so fine that it can’t be satisfied.
Sheree La Puma is an award-winning writer whose personal essays, fiction, and poetry have appeared in or are forthcoming in The American Journal of Poetry, WSQ, Chiron Review, SRPR, The Rumpus, Plainsongs, Into The Void, and I-70 Review, among others. Her poetry was recently nominated for Best of The Net and a Pushcart. Her micro-chapbook, ‘The Politics of Love,’ was published in August by Ghost City Press. She has a new chapbook, ‘Broken: Do Not Use,’ due out in 2021 with Main Street Rag Publishing. She received an MFA in Writing from California Institute of the Arts and taught poetry to former gang members.