January 9, 2018

“Why was it, when I thought of the man’s eventual demise, I could only ever imagine him in a box, the mess of his putrefaction contained? There were other ways, were there not? To be cast out to sea in the bathtub, a torch alight above his heart, curtains flapping around him, until finally, the smoldering weight of him sank beneath the water? Or to be chained atop the attic’s chimney, his fleshiness exposed to the birds who would peck and pick him open…”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: