The Transformation of David by J.L. Moultrie

The weeks spent abandoning your body were like constant striking of flint that suddenly
ignited fire. You observed your reflection in the mirror; each contradiction ran into another until
you heard a knock at the door.
You were only present in your shining armor, which flared with heavy, enveloping wings.
But their protection caused confinement like an alpha sequestered from the wolfpack.
Your body’s a cage that, while made of flesh, abbreviates itself like an iguana dropping
its tail. As a result, you sit in your apartment while reading and eating as much as you are able,
knowing the second shoe would fall.
David was discharged from the psych ward days ago and no one got word from him.
When he was inside, you communicated by the phone installed for patients. His conversational
tone put you at ease, but when he talked about his vision you felt frisson like zephyrs caressed
your face and upper body.
His kin had abandoned him when he got in trouble this time. However, you knew his
nature and how ordinarily coarse-spirited folks were eagerly won over by his humbleness.
You opened the door and his usual tan was absent along with his smile. He stood in the
hallway, eyes downcast, wearing a stained t-shirt from one of his favorite bands. You opened
your arms and stepped forward. There was too much to say that would have broken the silence.

J.L. Moultrie is a Detroiter and multi-genre writer who communicates his craft through words. He hasn’t been the same since encountering Patti Smith, Sylvia Plath & Hart Crane. He considers himself a modern, abstract imagist.