Fiction, poetry, writing
A silver breeze ruffles a curtain
of green cotton, passing a crestfallen
angel with red shoes.
People cackle and titter and
a wagon hurtles past, its destination
of little importance.
Crockery patters against a plastic bowl
recalling memories of a sister standing up.
Old lives are laid out in glass coffins
partitioned, numbered, selected.
Dainty egg sandwiches wait against
a backdrop of Polite Literature.