Right After The Bell

The Baltimore Catechism,

mornings at eight

Sister Marcella,

don’t ever be late


Its message didactic,

the devil to run

Each question, each answer,

with God zero-sum


Who and what made me,

and why every day

Resistance was futile,

dissent not displayed


An altar boy’s memories,

his sacristy torn

Still missing the process

—where freedom was born


(Saint Thomas of Villanova Chapel: December, 2021)


No Kiss On The Mouth

The hooker had saved a piece of herself,

a part kept new not old


As pure and pristine as a fresh running stream,

never bartered, never sold


The johns came and went, the money got spent,

each trick relined with pain


But in one sacred place, her past is erased

—where sun blocks out the rain


(The New Room: December, 2021)

Caught Inside The Eye

Nature—Lord of everything

its blizzards and its droughts


Talking back to a hurricane,

you whisper as it shouts


Your treasured possessions lie in wait

for floods to take away


That rumble heard beneath your feet

to swallow as you pray


Those things you grow and seeds you plant,

the locust comes to claim


As tidal waves begin to form

—you powerless to blame


(The New Room: November, 2021)

Ex Fonte

It doesn’t matter who it’s to,

it matters who it’s from


The sender based in deeper snow,

whose tracks forever come


It doesn’t matter what you say,

it matters what they thought


Intention shouting loud and clear

—once given never bought


(Dreamsleep: November, 2021)