Nature's Yoni
Church
by Jenna Jaffe Melissas
by Tennille McElrath Red velveteen threads like thick hair remain where wrinkled hands worried smooth patches, where backs rode straight against unyielding wood. Down the dusty aisles and past moldy hymnals an upright reposes like a hollow tooth. Any step here would sound like bone on bone. The wood groans as if remembering the resounding words of the past. Dauntless words dismissed the darkness and uncertainty, not like a floodlight, but like a glow through a pupil. Tiny bubbles vitiate the glass of the grimy windows. Dust clumps on cobwebs like knuckles on long, emaciated fingers. One room. A toybox on the surface of the earth. The broken doorway gapes like a mouth that once spoke great truths.
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