both how wrong the aloneness of my Father’s body, slumped in the reverberant too-small bath. and Mother, cupping His head, mapped with violent-violet scans, explorations of hope, reduced, a crown of purple thorns, a porcelain throne, draped in linen terrycloth. damn God! he’s unskinned, out of his shell of Fatherness, adrift, washed into the sea, […]