power outage

Have nothing to do with that just man that righteous man don't he is innocent that man don't you even for I had such troubled dreams I suffered greatly all day because of my dreaming all day I suffered I dreamed and it upset me very much when I dreamed of him

dulled the metal and the angels did not heal his wounds and his body did not recover

how are you? how hard it must have been. did anyone help you or did they just watch? (people love to watch other people burn. there's a unique scent and sound to a burning person. I heard.) which parts hurt most? do you think things can go back to how they were? no? do you think part of it was maybe your fault? no? did you try praying? I heard praying helps. Did you meditate? why didn't you ask for help? people were there watching you. I heard they couldn't look away. do you not like this line of questioning? why don't you walk away? can't you?

he, the suspected cannibal, the money launderer, the blur in the photograph, you have seen him smiling at you on the news, this strange man, most hated, most wanted!

we watch this old, creaking thing journeying across the country our town, one blip, us children like saints blessing its way

many nights I dream-remember the tropical air, heavy in my lungs and on my skin, never have I missed more the chair facing the grove where my grandfather sat, his papers orderly on a stool just beside, freshly edited

it's all bad news now, and bitter, and dark, so dark, the taste lingers in a bad way it doesn't taste good, the taste burns, it's not right how things are going, my hand shakes when I hold the cup to my mouth, who can smile during these dark times, over this dark Americano, I'm afraid of days of greatness, someone said that's what this is

up in heaven you have angels further south you have adversaries and here... here...

The slipper didn't shatter, of course. But it made a sound like a plop, quite loud, and then stared upwards, and then disappeared

The irises tell. The lovely irises. Like all mothers from a certain era she holds the weight in them. The cleverness. The movements underneath the surface, like a dance with hidden meanings. She doesn't know everything, she isn't omniscient, but she knows enough, and that makes her formidable. Before she was a mother she was a girl and as a girl she learned so much about the world that boys of similar age couldn't fathom. How to keep two faces, how to befriend wolves so that they listened to you. How to survive the various magical traps of mothers from the earlier generation. Now, a mother herself, she holds a poise and a charm and a power. She can discern and disguise. She has become herself, and even in moments of fear she maintains her resilience. She walks through darkness without seeing. She challenges mighty powers, even those just under that of God. She laughs in a crowded room and adds levity to the room. She recalls previous years when she tucked her children in at night. She turns the lights off in the house. She blinks when you say her name.

That wounds Billy. He looks down at his hands and he feels Lucy's hand on his shoulder, comforting. "Don't listen to him," Lucy says, but Billy wants to, it's all he wants to hear. He wants to know what Saxon really thinks of him.

Job 41:14 (NRSVCE)