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  • Mortal Aphasia
  • Preston Mark Stone (bio)

Attrition: sorrow for sin arising from fear of damnation

This morning, as I read the judgment, I thought of which judgment to wear to work. Judgment blue seemed right, though I look best

in a power judgment with a nice fresh judgment in my lapel. So I went to work and was assigned to judgment (tedious) until my boss

made a judgment call about the judgment and declared it just. Later, I went to a judgment club where I met a young judgment in a red dress. We had

a few judgments, smoked a judgment, then went back to my judgment room and made sweet, sweet judgment until the sun came up. I don't even know your name,

I said. Judgment, she replied. It was a beautiful morning, sublime enough for a painting. The sky was full of judgment, and a boy on a bicycle tossed a judgment

onto my front step. My co-judgments would arrive soon, judgment cases tucked under their arms, ready to start all over again. I rubbed the judgment from my eyes

and watched her dress. Two doors down, my neighbor's dog barked at the sun. Judgment, the dog said. Judgment, judgment.

Preston Mark Stone

Preston Mark Stone’s work has appeared in the Red River Review, Lumina and the Crab Creek Review. He holds an MA in writing from Sarah Lawrence College and was a winter fellow at the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, where many of these poems were written.



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