M. T. C. Cronin

God is Waiting in the World's Yard M. T. C. Cronin

A small black cat wakes in the box in which it
was carried to a dump and makes its way home through the drains. The only
change in the divine realm is that there is no longer anyone or anything
guarding the gates of the dead. - 'Downpayment on a Catastrophe'





The simplest of
places that at every moment confronts with fresh ambiguities: 'The world's
yard': is it a tree-lined garden where children are playing? or the yard where
a yardarm is erected, the executioner's noose always dangling? or the boneyard
where heretic and believer lie side by side to whisper their shared
confidences? 'Carnivorous laughter
filters through the woods.' Isn't it always so?''