Getting up at 6 to watch you sing at 7- You and your choir weave left and right Like a forest of red trees under the spell of the east wind. Two weeks ago i gave you money So you could ride to that place, St. Pious Holy Baptist Church--”Built to the Glory of God!”-- In your new crimson robes, in your ice blue Thunderbird. There you prayed the sinner’s prayer:
“Lord Jesus, I am unworthy to walk this earth, And I know it. But rain down salvation anyway On my burning flesh--on my rotting corpse.
Maura reached to unlock her front door Of wood and stained glass, Of dreams, empty hearts, and Lips unrequited. A sliver of light between door and jamb stopped her. She turned and looked at Sidney’s car parked in the drive. “I’ve told that man a million times to lock this door. He left enough room for demons and snakes to enter.”
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