A Mary Grotto

She slips quietly into the semi-circle of the grotto, reverently lights a votive candle. A pretty girl, her form drags my eyes away from the plaster virgin into a carnal daydream. She does the whole Catholic thing, and every ritual gesture seems natural. Rosary beads guide her fingers, as she knits the face of Jesus perhaps or her boyfriend - hard to tell. As she intones, her body flows around my half-shut eyes. I am drawn to her naive sexuality. When I look again, she is crying (some loved one badly needs her prayers). Her passionate supplications are oblivious to voyeuristic scrutiny. She and the virgin Mary seem magnified within a small halo of light. I check myself to see if I am shrinking – I am. Bastard! I thought. I expect The Holy Mother of God agreed.