Another letter in the mail from the Church of Scientology. Addressed to nebulous Bob the former Dweller of my home. A Past Life if you will. “Not at this address!” I scrawl desperately as the Supreme Beings watch me from the trees. Can their persistence convert me? Sending weekly letters each envelope growing from the weight of immortality. Seaweed, plankton, clams, our clanky atoms everywhere. Perhaps thetan can travel through mail rooms, collecting rare stamps and roast beef sandwiches from unsuspecting plebs. Me myself, I can’t be sure that Bob is real. Perhaps I’ll peek and see what they have to say, to learn that one does not have a Bob, he is a Bob. I am Bob, Bob is me.
Katie Kenney studied publishing at University of Denver's Publishing Institute and received her MFA in Creative Writing from Western Washington University. Her poems have appeared in Red Ogre Review, RHINO Poetry, and Fairy Tale Review among others. Originally from Northern California, she now lives in New England with her cat Mabel.
