from SHORT STORY
The sanctuary’s east wall is largely stained glass largely yellow the surrounding paint yellowed
morning sunlight diffuse but for one pane less than one square foot unpainted which lets pass a blue
white beam
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The aisle’s short pile runner stripes to stage-wide stairs the platform the pulpit flanked with
dusted housetrees one hanging cross one white baptismal size of a hot tub where we each in turn
are dunked for the Beloved and each returned to life
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We loose our voice in time through plaster through beam through this room and the other noise
carries noise to balcony through pages through teeth to when we once alone born hungry in
caves we drift we wave from this room lit blood thickened
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Under pews colorless thread drapes with dust the balcony sits three and three rows here our
family father mother brother and here a family and here another and here a stranger woman
with glass eyes of a bird all rise to leave Morning she says mother holds brother’s shoulder tight
biography
