Post #99

Holy cooked / contemplating a too modern crucifix The charred remains of Jesus, blending with his cross, fit for a world past nuclear demise: I search his face for seared-shut eyes to ward off the imagined smell of kofta (or kebab, depending on the customs of your land) – and pray, when He arises from the blaze to leave the tomb, his gaze be softer than this stab, the hide of this cocoon. @verse by MR