MYKONOS
The box in which she
lay felt thin as paper.
She sat up slowly,
felt a soft fleshy rending from the cold gray shell beneath her
like the petals of a flower blossoming outward from the bud.
She gazed across the
room at the altar and the icons. They were poor and worn with
age.
The flowers had no
scent
She looked down at
the vault of flesh.
She waited.