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by Stirling Duncan

'Round a hill and thorned from the grass
this church should be condemned
Singing faint but grouped like it's mass
a million oats are stemmed
The couple pause their disinterest,
park, and enter its shade
None near could tell them who had set this building
But all would never enter for worshiping

Creaks and skittering make welcome
the couple to this home
God once was here, antebellum
perhaps, discerned by the tome
An argument begins to drift them apart
Now turbulent, heartfelt apology comes

He grasps, hands hold, like life depends
'til caressing her chest
Her grip on him then guides their bends
and gives him no protest
Long enough for the sun to share in their warmth
A hymn of promise to love like this henceforth

What replaced God slinks its flit eye
lumber giving vision

Return