What Direction Now? Life at the intersection…

Grace and Choice


Pigeon pile, leaves etched with sketches of a full life lived and having died, stitched up to show that even God is a Frankenstein, pieced and piecing together in our minds until we think we have a picture of the divine—but yours can’t be quite as true as mine, yeah?—licking the spoon and vying for the same roles, all the same parts of the missing whole, insisting this hole inside of me is not as wide as his or hers, girting my legs with steel I’ve stolen slyly from my brother’s creaking, weakened fort, seeking soundness, but spurting oil and steam (or is it feathers and leaves?) as I spout my own found and founded knowledge—boys go to college to get more…—no less than third-grade recess ramblings stored and shored up, until in time it becomes solid fact, and if it rhymes it must be true, right?, lacking fast or faster tactics to separate ruse from real news, we relax the rules and forget again to ask, is this photo or fraud?, picture or sham?, and if scripture is the breathing word of a sovereign God, not blurred by man, then how can we use an uncertain understanding among us, what are we allowed to pick and choose the easiest verses and routes to righteousness, curse the least of these, they’re too tough to deal with, but squeal with haste when we get the change to judge and discriminate, hating the other comes so natural, after all, to our animal brains, and though we have higher thoughts and voices, though we are not dumb, though we have other choices, still we strain against each other to reach the lower limbs, sending our neighbors flying down to the ground to peck and scrape for crumbs, trying and dying for morsels draped off the ends of park benches, as we, perched now and preening, become blind to anything beneath our straight and level line of sight.
To make you want me, I can fabricate the truth; I’ll give you easy, it’ll keep me destitute…

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What Direction Now? Life at the intersection…

About Andrew.

Andrew Cartwright grew up in Indianapolis, IN, but has lived over the years in such places as Denver, CO; Fairfax, VA; and Rivne, Ukraine. He is a former nonfiction editor for both Indiana Review and phoebe; he has also worked for the intersectional feminist journal, So To Speak, and the national literary magazine, Electric Literature. His work has appeared in The Normal School Online, Copper Nickel, Esquire Ukraine, Literary Hub, and Word Riot.

For more information about me and links to other writing, visit my author page at cartwriter.com





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