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Saint/Street (Brenna Alyssa Mahn - New Orleans, LA)



Mercy is strained-estranged-arraigned in a never ending lemniscate. I woke up at 3AM to a cat licking my eyelid. I shivered but at least my eyes are free of flies and I think maybe even planks.

Next morning I pull in to the two floor parking garage- I park on the first and walk through the door on the back of the building. Elevator to fourth floor. Long carpeted hallway with windows that only look into waiting rooms, never escaping the building.

I open heavy glass door, talk to receptionist, get called into appointment. I tell the doctor about what happened to me. She tells me she’s officially adding the letters St next to my name. I ask her what they mean. You’ve been through a lot, she says. I’m not sure whether it means I deserve sainthood for my persecution or just that I’ve been systematically crushed under the world’s wheels for the sake of misplaced pragmatism alone.

Have you ever been to a place where it seems god did not finish creation? A mountain climbs towards the sky then suddenly drops off where he gets distracted. Rivers begin then are swallowed beneath the surface of the earth where he forgot to finish drawing a path for them.

Has it ever occurred to you that there might be people like that? Because sometimes I think I might be one of them.


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