Starbuck’s Cathedral
The bitter March wind
blew a crumpled paper cup
along the sidewalk and
a slender wool-coated woman
into the cathedral
cold stone prayers
in a mid-day empty church
the petitioner kneels unattended
by clergy or God
candles watch and consume
the dark corners of the mind
and the neglect of accumulated years
only the quiet
only the subscription of personal pain
to keep her coming back
without comment
–
The holy apostles on the wall
stare into the distance
and they do not see the tiny Jesus
climb into the slender lady’s purse and
hide next to the lipstick.
She clutches her purse
to her breast
as if it is a most precious thing
says a final prayer and
heads out onto the streets
of the holy city.