A Desert at Night
I’m tired, you say.
An axiom for, It’s over, I think.
As I look at you I’m thinking about something I read the other day. About some indigenous population of Indonesia, I regret only for a second that I can’t remember their name. Every year, families exhume their dead. They wash the corpses, dress them in new clothes. Parade them around. Rotted, cold bodies in bright dresses.
I’m just tired, you say.
About the Author: Molly O'Keefe is an undergraduate student in the Honors College the University of Alabama.