White Chapel
I walk a mile, smiling and smoking
A cigarette. Awaits me are glad-hands.
Preacher explains in terms I know.
For the sermons, is why I will go.
Wearing jeans and a pretty blouse,
I stand and sing along in my head.
Last time I held a note, last song.
Once I raised my hand to have head
Doffed off. It's a choice in the Bible.
God lives. Parks, darks and lights.
Nights are colder, my soul is older.
I eat wafer and drink grape juice in
Honour of my parents, now long gone.
Copyright © June Ellen Smith | Year Posted 2010
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