it is noon
August burns
the chapel
slumbers
a cleaning lady
circles the altar
her dust cloth
stirs the silence
her slight limp
a reverence
herself
an incense
in the offering
air
with this
communion
I
leave
it is noon
August burns
the chapel
slumbers
a cleaning lady
circles the altar
her dust cloth
stirs the silence
her slight limp
a reverence
herself
an incense
in the offering
air
with this
communion
I
leave
Listen:
too much
blinds
too little
too
a light
just right
happens
when
one
divines
the invisible
play
between
us