saw everyone crumpling into fetal position, arms flailing like newborns, the bodies falling, slow and beautiful as the sea. and i stood there in between the living and dead, arms outspread: a broken symbol of atonement, blessing all. my sons’ faces wavered before me like a mirage. when i reached out to caress their cheeks one last time, that’s when the rains came, God’s weeping, a father’s rage at watching children turn and turn, blowing away like dust.
Nancy Hightower's poetry explores mythic narratives from a post-modern and at times, feminist perspective. Her poetry and short fiction has appeared in The New York Quarterly, Word Riot, Prick of the Spindle, storySouth, Bourbon Penn, Big Muddy, Prime Number Magazine, and Strange Horizons, among others, and is forthcoming in Gargoyle. Her first novel, "Elementarí Rising," will be published in September by Pink Narcissus Press.