Our ayatollah looks at me with contempt
He put me in charge of stoning
an adulteress
I found a good wall to set her against
but I’d forgotten to see to the stones
Someone had come and taken them to repair the wall
that surrounds his olive grove
So there we were
all ready to execute her
and no stones
The ayatollah looked like he wanted to
beat me to death
with his bare fists
but he was old and frail
Instead he exiled me
and the harlot too
The villagers took hold of our arms
and legs
and tossed us out the village gate
slammed it shut behind us
We looked out at the desert
turned and looked at each other
Inky Interview: Author Mitchell Krockmalnik Grabois from Denver, Colorado
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