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)