Thursday Night

The Thursday Club Almanac of the Dead by Leslie Marmon Silko


Thursday night

Empty auditorium

Lines of coffee cups

Decorate the greeting table

Partially lit

The room

A circle of mismatched chairs

Orphaned in the middle

Quiet before everyone arrives

Hear the soft ticking of the clock

We all come here

Every Thursday night

Sitting in our assigned seats

Ready to confess

Reveal ourselves slowly

In stories of pain, addiction and regret

Compare our memories, each a scar

We break open

To bleed out a lesson we learned

We are trapped animals

With our bad habits waiting in the shadows

To snatch us back into our nightmares

So we meet here

Thursday night

To remember ourselves

To protect ourselves

From ourselves

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