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orphan

by Jim Butcher

 

she handed it to me—the child, the chalk

and i told her it was not the wailing wall but she said

if i drew a stick figure that would be the same as offering a prayer

 

and the smell of sea water permeated the brick

and the brick itself was stained from cocks pissing

or someone had lived there at one time

 

she said she was orphaned (when the ship left port)

it had three masts and was painted black and red