she and he in polished shoes,
his tie she tied like a noose,
sunday's knight,
shining with borrowed grace.
the church bell rings,
like something forgotten it had to say—
they hear it as their anthem.
he's got the Book
tucked under his arm,
pages marked with
sins they swear aren't theirs.
mouth's whisper Solomon's psalms
that their hands have never followed,
but still, they kneel,
all theater and...
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