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Every October After
November 27, 2013
Every October After
for men I knew: a priest and his murderer
Silver flashes before none of my senses—yet I see it still—rainbows reflected off the walls; but it was nighttime then. He would have heard the rain, but day wouldn’t have come fast enough. Light wouldn’t have come fast enough. Yet light came too fast.
The past two Octobers—the past two anniversaries—I’ve lived without light. Square the time and you’ll find two men’s apocalypses. Yet one still lives on.
And he made himself a horcrux.
© Rebecca W., W. Hollywood, CA
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