Poem: Church

Originally published in February 2001

The Abbey on Church Street

Grey wisps of crown

about these shiny heads

Chins jutting

Gazes protruding

All under the stained-glass sanctuary

and I am watching, listening

Merely carrying the cross

Holding the book

while the chorus chimes in refrain

and the congregation stirs in prayer

Drifting in my tasseled robe

I am short on comprehension

Long on waiting

A fan hums

A bell drones