by Jen Dupree

I am trying to pray. The wafer still dissolving on the roof of my mouth, my knees rigid on their bend. Pray, I will myself, pray. Instead, I think about nice legs in short skirts, sand between my toes, sand between the sheets. Be reverent, allow the blankness, be ready for the divine. But - I want, I want.


Jen Dupree lives and writes in Maine. She is the winner of a 2006 Maine Literary Award and is currently at work on a novel as well as short fiction.