Gabriella

18

Summer in the cathedral
All done up in purple light
I like how aware it is of its own magnificence, a cathedral performing itself
Even a robed chorus expelling a wordless chant
And occasionally an organ swelling its damning pulse in

Priest pushes his words at me like a steak across the table
His lusty fingers together like crab claws
The mothers keep excusing themselves
Moving out and in through the side doors
Patting their round-headed babies on their terrycloth bums
Their babies sound like a chorus of sirens, and squirm, and bat
Their fists faintly against the air above them
Flat black sky expands slowly, like a mold in the lungs

It’s time for us to call to mind our sins
The best part, it’s best to call them up in church
Because you get to roil in it, in the stillness
Anyway, he asked me to
I actually call to mind my sins all the time
But usually this only makes me want to sin again
Thinking of threading my arms around her
Laughing loud and sloppy in her ear
Then I think I might be the Anima Sola of this church
Beautiful in the midst of all this fire
Radiant in heat