Cold white marble eyes glare as I enter. Snakes at his feet. Six days every week a shiver escapes my control. One blessed day I am free of his gaze. Harsh dreams of his snakes swirling up and around the necks of The Sisters invade my sleep. Can there be no rest? Melancholy takes up residence in my chest. My abdomen. It grows. Praised be Jesus Christ, Good Morning, Father. This is my first confession. Oh my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee. The snakes swirl and snap at the nose of Sister Patrona. What is wrong with me? What is wrong? What?
Teri Lee Kline resides in Berkeley, California, but was born and raised in a colder climate by hardy Wisconsin folk. Her work has also appeared in Sein und Werden.
–Art of landscape by Sarah Hardy
–Art of dome by Zak Milofsky
Running sports | Jordan