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Monica Boothe

Rain Clouds

Rain Clouds 150 150 Monica Boothe

The morning we drove out to the Transmara in Western Kenya, I was sick, and asthma was reaching around my lungs with its familiar fingers, tightening. We drove down rolling…

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Eucharist 150 150 Monica Boothe

“She doesn’t realize what she’s doing.” I pant, my legs stumbling along their way. My breath, growing short and strained, rattles rhythmically. I always knew this would happen. Some ingrained…

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A Pieta

A Pieta 150 150 Monica Boothe

Stare back at me in the haunting moons of eyes, the body, stretched and drooping in my lap. The angel came with a message. Will you bear the blood in…

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