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To L. J. Denney's next pieceIrony abounds all around us life getting in a quick subtle stab a smile flickering across the withered face of morning sitting in church 11 am Sunday the wafer - the body the wine - the blood watching people down their sip of grape juice its color in the tiny fragile glass the same hue as blood mixed with heroin in the plastic barrel of a syringe ninety degrees outside air conditioner humming coolness within women in Sunday school class clucking hens talk of poor souls who have lost their minds to drugs I smile check to be sure my sleeves are pulled down
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