"Untitled"

by Ashley Hill

     The hate reigned. We found ourselves, our distant, musty
selves, rocking back and forth, back and forth; our bodies gliding
to the weeping of a child so silent only we could feel it. 
Shoulders slouched, arms limp,we bowed our heads like a row of 
patrons in an infinite, grotesquely selfish attempt to be 
forgiven. Praying for understanding, as all-knowing but innocent 
children.

c.1997